


kiss me strong (kiss me till it hurts)

by cathalin



Category: Walk on Water (2004)
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Gay Character, Canon Jewish Character, First Time, Gay Male Character, Jewish Character, M/M, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Rimming, Rough Sex, Sexual Tension, Yuletide, Yuletide 2011
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-21
Updated: 2011-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-27 17:08:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/298107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathalin/pseuds/cathalin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Eyal finally lets Axel up for air when his heart is tripping fast in his chest, when he feels Axel go from surprised and uncertain to hungry and wanting. “You have a habit of pushing me up against things,” Axel growls, flipping them around so it’s Eyal against the door.</i></p><p><i>“Are you complaining?” Eyal asks, while Axel kisses down his neck, undoes the top button of his shirt and sucks at the soft skin there.</i></p><p>Eyal, a widowed Mossad agent, is assigned to pretend to be a tour guide and show Axel, a gay German, around Israel. Neither man is prepared for the effect they will have on each other, or for the changes that will occur within themselves as they struggle to come to terms with their friendship, their pasts, and their attraction to each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	kiss me strong (kiss me till it hurts)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pun/gifts).



> In order to try to make this fic accessible to people who have not seen the fantastic movie it's based on, I've written a Prologue. It's part of the story in the sense that it leads into it, but for someone who is fresh off the movie, they may wish to scroll down and start with the actual fic. Obviously, the Prologue contains massive spoilers for the movie.
> 
> For people who want to hear the beautiful song featured heavily in the movie, here's a link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fSFyGfwKp5g
> 
> For links to youtube clips from the movie, if you want to at least see the characters this is about, see the Notes at the bottom of the fic.
> 
> Finally, Walk on Water is available streaming on Netflix and Amazon, and I highly, highly recommend it! I was actually matched to the recipient on a different fandom, and began plotting a fic, but I decided what the heck and watched Walk on Water based on her description (in addition to the fact I had seen clips from one of the director's earlier movies). I fell in love with it and knew I had to write this fic (well, I had a bit of encouragement as well... Pun, you have some wonderful friends. <3). Truly, writing this fic has been a wonderful writing experience because of how much I love this movie and these characters. I only hope I've done them a tiny shred of justice. <33

**Prologue**   
_  
Even now, when Eyal has a good dream, it’s often set at the Sea of Galilee. Axel’s there, of course. Smiling back at Eyal over his shoulder, inviting him to walk on the water as if that were no big thing. As if people could just clean the bitterness out of their hearts, wash themselves pure. Remove the scars from the sins of the past._

 _It hadn’t felt that way. All his years in the Mossad, heart blasted of feeling, any feeling except hate._

 _Iris and how he couldn’t meet her needs, any of them, how lonely she must have been, until she couldn’t stand it any more._

 _It hadn’t felt like he could ever be pure of heart._

 _And he isn’t, of course._

 _But._

 _But he can dream of the Sea now, dream of smiling back at Axel there, playing in the water. He can even tousle the hair of a Palestinian child and laugh with them, try to build something new here, try to--_

 _But that’s getting ahead of himself._

 _If he wants to tell this story, even to himself, he needs to start at the beginning. Well, the beginning of this particular story …_

 _It began with an assignment, insinuating himself into the lives of two strangers: German siblings, Pia and Axel. He was to try to find out whether their grandfather, the Nazi responsible for wiping out Eyal’s own mother’s family along with countless others, was still alive._

 _The sister, Pia, had been concerned about her brother’s safety when he visited, due to a rash of suicide bombings, so had hired a tour guide company. Easy enough for the Mossad to get him in and for him to pretend to be a tour guide himself, show the brother, Axel, the sights._

 _Too easy, though, to end up liking them both. Liking Axel a little too much._

 _At the time, he’d believed his anger towards Rafik, the Palestinian Axel picked up that night at the bar, was nothing but irritation at learning in this in-your-face way that Axel was gay, not to mention Rafik’s ethnicity._

 _But any feelings Eyal had or didn’t have were made irrelevant by the discovery that the grandfather --astoundingly-- was alive. Axel had known none of it, believing his grandparents to have died after the war, but his parents -- cold, aristocratic types -- had helped the man into hiding in South America somewhere -- then kept him protected there all these years._

 _All these fucking years._

 _Axel hadn’t known why Pia suddenly left Germany to come to Israel and live on a kibbutz, why she refused to even consider visiting their parents. She had overheard a phone conversation and learned of what her parents had done. Were doing. She almost turned them into the authorities, and urged them to do so themselves, but at the end, she left all that horrific dysfunction and fled to Israel, to a kibbutz up north, and stayed._

 _When Axel found out, he was horrified and disgusted and shamed; Eyal had read it in his face, the tension in his body._

 _Changed times and lots of money meant that Axel’s parents had the ability to trot the old grandfather out as a surprise at Axel’s father’s birthday party in Germany. A party Axel had invited Eyal to, not knowing his Mossad connection. He had easily believed Eyal’s lie that he came to visit Axel in Germany to prove he wasn’t bigoted against gays, as a sign of friendship after their travels together. And when Eyal used his training to defend some drag queens from some thugs, and gave the thugs an ultimatum in flawless German, Axel believed Eyal’s story about knowing German from listening to his parents when he was a child. A story not totally untrue._

 _When the old man came shuffling in with his walker, into the huge room at the luxurious villa of Axel's parents in which the party was held, Eyal at first had stood rooted to the floor. The audacity, the sheer arrogance, was... he had no word for it. He’d left then, escaped the villa to seek out his boss Menachem, who was staying nearby, having followed Eyal from Israel. Eyal had taken the syringe, as he had all the other times he’d done a hit on an enemy of the nation._

 _He felt dead inside, hollow, but that was nothing new, and he knew he’d do it, stick it in the old man’s vein and hasten death. Get him before God did, as Menachem liked to say._

 _Once there, though, watching the old man’s frail body try to live one second more, then another, oxygen line inserted in his nose and lungs gasping for air, Eyal had come unfrozen, all at once. He couldn’t. He couldn’t do it. It wasn’t that he felt sorry for him, not after what he’d done, destroying Eyal’s own family and thousands of others. It was just, he was done with killing. All it did was leave an emptiness in his own heart. All it did was destroy._

 _So when Axel eventually followed him into the bedroom, the unused syringe still hanging from Eyal’s hand, and sat next to him on the bed, it all came out. He told him. Told Axel. Talked about his heart. How Iris had written in her suicide note that all Eyal did was kill. Everything he touched._

 _How he couldn’t, any more._

 _Axel’s silent presence was, as always, kind. Despite the fact Eyal had almost killed his grandfather. Eyal had never reached for physical comfort from anyone, not since he was a child, but he did then, tipping into Axel’s strong body, burying his face in his chest, crying like he thought he never could. At the time he didn’t really notice, but it took Axel a few seconds before he responded. Then his arms came around him, and he pulled Axel in, just letting him fall apart._

 _Little did Eyal guess that Axel had hastened the old man’s death himself, in those seconds after Eyal left the room._

 _Little did Eyal guess that this moment, him seeking comfort in Axel’s arms, would mark the beginning of something new, something both terrifying and beautiful. Something that would change the course of his life, and his soul._

~ ~ ~  
~ ~ ~

 

 **Kiss me strong (kiss me till it hurts)**

 

For a long time, Eyal doesn’t think about anything, just -- finally -- lets himself feel. He’s safe, he knows that somehow, but he forgets who he’s with or where he is, forgets everything in the sorrow that rises up and clogs his throat. The sorrow that’s been there... well, forever, actually.

After a long time, the grief subsides, or at least compresses into something manageable, a sharp ache in his heart, but one that won’t rise up and strangle him.

Slowly, he comes back into his body. It’s a little cramped-feeling; he thinks he’s been leaning into Axel for a long time. But he’s warm, even relaxed. There’s a strong body surrounding him, arms holding him. A hand, stroking on the nape of his neck, firm but gentle at the same time. It’s been there the whole time, he realizes, grounding him.

A wave of -- appreciation; he thinks it’s appreciation -- floods him, for Axel’s silent acceptance. Not many people would simply offer comfort silently like this. Least of all a German, to a Jewish assassin who was a hair’s breadth away from killing their grandfather.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath. He’s suddenly conscious that it’s time to get out of this ridiculous position. He pushes up to a sit, levering himself up awkwardly on Axel’s body. He’s dizzy, it’s all so, so...

Midway, Axel pulls him in for a hug, chest to chest. Eyal’s so -- grateful, that’s the word, he thinks, grateful -- to him, he lets him. He breathes into the warmth of Axel’s neck, the distinctive smell of oranges flooding his senses -- something in Axel’s shaving cream, he thinks -- while the sharp pricks of stubble on Axel’s jaw rub onto his cheek. He still feels lightheaded, almost woozy; it’s all so beautiful, really, warm flesh under his hands -- warm, not dying -- his lips almost brushing on the tender skin of Axel’s neck. Axel’s mouth, right there in front of him; Axel’s chest rising and falling...

A sharp cry from outside the room and it all floods back into his awareness: where he is, whose mouth he’s centimeters away from, the pathetic old man in the other room. He tenses and starts to pull away. Axel’s hands tighten on him just for a moment, obviously reluctant to let him go. The word coalesces in his head: _homosexual_ , just as his brain registers how he’s draped over Axel, how Axel’s hands are caressing him.

Voices rise in the hallway. There are doors slammed, scurrying footsteps.

Eyal pulls away. He can’t look at Axel. He feels Axel’s gaze on him as he stands shakily, then gets his feet under himself and strides rapidly toward the door. His instincts are screaming at him that there’s still danger here, despite the fact he didn’t inject the fatal dose after all.

“What is it?” he asks a hurrying servant. He doesn’t bother to make his German anything but flawless.

“The old man,” she says over her shoulder. “Finally dead.” Then, more quietly, under her breath, “Thank God.”

Eyal feels a presence over his shoulder: Axel. He turns to look at him, sharp, but now it’s Axel who won’t meet _his_ eyes. He feels a literal chill, certain in that moment of what Axel has done. Automatically, he scans for exits, defenses. He relaxes a fraction when he sees nothing more than he’d already noticed; a boring and relatively ineffectual security system. It would be easy to get Axel out of here, then out of the country, if necessary.

The next few hours are a blur. He stands back deferentially as the family handles its business. He watches Axel carefully for signs that will give him away, but there’s nothing other than a slight shaking in his hands, a glassy look in his eyes when no one’s addressing him.

The family steps carefully around the issue of the turned-off monitor. Perhaps Axel was not the only one who wished to see the old man go out. Though after seeing what he has of this bunch, Eyal thinks with disdain that for many of them, it’s likely the reason would be to prevent him suffering any more.

“Ow,” Axel says under his breath, and it’s only then that Eyal realizes he’s got a death grip on his arm.

“Sorry.”

Axel meets his eyes for the first time in a while. “No, it’s okay. I. Appreciate it.”

Eyal nods, keeping eye contact the whole time.

~ ~ ~

There’s going to be some kind of memorial service, the very thought of which makes Eyal’s heart cold in his chest, threatening to bring back the chill he’s been carrying with him for a very long time.

Axel’s face takes on a look Eyal’s never seen there before: fury, he thinks, stepping up instinctively to block whatever truths Axel’s about to let spill from his mouth in front of his gathered family. There’s still danger here; no one has inquired too closely into each person’s whereabouts at the time the old man died. Yet. He takes Axel’s arm forcefully. “Perhaps we must go, due to your appointment in Berlin?” he offers, prepared to do more if necessary. He’s not going to let Axel throw himself on some type of pyre over that piece of human garbage.

Axel spins to look at him, challenging. Eyal meets and holds his gaze. After tense seconds tick away, Axel finally closes his eyes, then opens them and huffs out a breath. “Yes. Perhaps you’re right. I do have...” He trails off and looks down at the ground.

“We must be going, sorry,” Eyal says, spiriting Axel out to the car, where he’s already placed their things.

Axel doesn’t speak on the entire drive back to Berlin. After a while, Eyal digs around in the CDs and puts Sivan Shavit in the player. Axel still doesn’t relax into his seat, just sits stiff-backed and staring out the window at the countryside flashing by. Eyal experiences a weird dissonance, remembering their day up north, the sea, the campfire, this music like a tangible thing in the car between them.

~ ~ ~

Without talking about it, they go to Axel’s apartment. Axel’s back to not looking at Eyal and that’s more than fine with him; he stays carefully a few feet away from Axel at all times. He offers to go to a hotel like before, but Axel just shakes his head and waves to the couch in the living area, on which he’s tossed a blanket and pillow. Eyal decides he needs to stay close by, anyway, just in case anything happens in the wake of the old man’s death. He half expects a knock on the door, a phone call at least, but there’s nothing.

That night Eyal lies there staring at Axel’s ceiling for hours. There’s complete silence from Axel’s room, and he wonders if he should--

His brain doesn’t finish that thought.

~ ~ ~

“I didn’t know,” Axel says into the silence over coffee the next morning, abrupt. “That I had--That my...” He swallows. “that I had a _grandfather_ who--”

“Enough,” Eyal says. “I know you didn’t know.”

Axel looks at him finally, at that; gaze sharp. “I see.”

It’s actually good to hear him get that pissed-off tone at Eyal’s deception. To a point.

“I take it this means you could kill me with your pinkie finger.” Axel says it devoid of intonation, and Eyal can’t tell anything about what he thinks.

Eyal doesn’t say anything, looks down at his hands.

“But then,” Axel continues, “I guess I’ve kind of known that since the subway. Though... I figured, martial arts, maybe some kind of special army history in your past, but not--”

Eyal examines his fingernails.

There’s a long pause, and Eyal feels Axel looking at his face. “But now you aren’t the only one in this room who’s killed for justice, right?”

Eyal presses his lips together, but nods. He looks up. “Are you. Are you alright?”

Axel snorts. “Hardly. I’ll survive, though.” He gets up and starts washing dishes. After a few moments, Eyal sighs, then joins him, wielding the dish towel in silence.

~ ~ ~

Eyal books a flight. Three days from now, because Axel insists. “Let me show you my city, the good things. There are good German things, you know.” There’s a hint of his boyish optimism back in his voice, so Eyal gives in. Besides, Eyal’s still worried something might come of the old Nazi’s death, though as the hours go by, it seems less and less likely. He doesn’t really want to leave until he’s sure there won’t be repercussions for Axel.

They sample _bouletten_ from a street vendor and visit Museum Island. They picnic at the Tiergarten in front of a lake and window shop on the Kü'damm.

Axel asks him quietly that first day if he’d want to visit the Jewish Museum while he’s here, but after thinking about it, Eyal declines. They do go see the Reichstag, though, and Eyal stands quietly for a few minutes, just looking.

At first Eyal feels shy, even ashamed, around Axel. He’s never cried once since he was eight years old, until that night at Axel’s parents. Let alone in front of anyone.

No matter what.

Even in training, even under the close-to-torture the Mossad uses to prepare agents for what will certainly happen if they are ever captured in Palestinian areas or Arab nations.

Even after Iris.

Even over his mother. He hadn’t even wanted to; all he’d felt was a cold fury at the murderers who had his mother to be so weak that simple pneumonia could fell her in the prime of life. Malnourishment, disease and having to hide and flee all over Europe to escape the Nazis, as well as losing all of her family one by one, had made her frail, though her spirit--her spirit had been strong and full of life. He still remembers the flowers she put in a vase on the kitchen table. Fresh flowers every day. She said they reminded her of the important things. Of life.

Even over her, he had never cried.

Axel makes it easy: he doesn’t hint in any way that he’s seen Eyal unmanned, that he thinks any less of him. So as that first day goes on, Eyal relaxes, tries to settle into himself again.

Only, now that the old fury’s gone, or vacationing, he feels empty. Like some fundamental part of himself is missing. Like he doesn’t even know who he is any more.

Maybe he doesn’t.

He catches himself smiling that afternoon when Axel, back to a semblance of his former self, mimes wearing the _lederhosen_ they find in the open market. When Axel sees Eyal’s mouth flick up, Axel’s own smile reaches his eyes for the first time since -- since the events in the countryside.

After that, Axel is full of frenetic energy. He does more and more ridiculous things as the night goes on: stuffs his mouth full of _currywurst_ outrageously, yodels with the fake touristy band on a corner, and finally, gets on bended knee in front of Eyal with a huge bouquet of wildflowers bought for pennies from a stand at midnight, after they’ve had far too many steins of beer. “Please be mine,” he croons, sticking a hand melodramatically to his chest, “or my heart will break.” A crowd of well-dressed Berliners gathered around laughs and claps indulgently.

A person Eyal thought was a woman but turns out to be a young man, slim and dressed in black silk, hoots. “I’ll be yours, honey, if he won’t!” Everyone laughs. The corners of Axel’s eyes crinkle. He looks the guy up and down. “You’re beautiful, doll,” he says. “But I only have eyes for youuuuuu,” he sings, turning his face up to Eyal again and grinning so hard Eyal can’t do anything but smile back.

“You’re crazy,” Eyal says. On a whim, he picks up one of the flowers and weaves it into Axel’s hair. Axel stills and stays motionless until he’s done.

Someone says, “awww” as the crowd walks away, moving on to another corner.

Eyal takes a deep breath and steps away from Axel. “You look ridiculous,” he manages to say.

Axel opens his eyes and smiles at him, reaches up to touch the flower. “Ridiculous as you.”

They head back to the apartment very late. Axel is humming some show tune under his breath, stumbling at his own threshold. Eyal’s got his arm around his waist, holding him up. “You are so, so,” Axel slurs, sliding into German seemingly without noticing it. “So strong and you held me up and let me--You put a flower... I feel like I’ve known you, like you know me...” He leans into Eyal’s space, slides a warm hand up his side. Eyal can feel it through two layers of clothing, burning.

He’s not exactly sober himself, but he can feel the euphoria beginning to burn off. He’s familiar with this, the high after a mission. The crash will be hard. It always is. He pushes Axel away, gently.

Axel stares up at him from where he’s landed on his bed. “Here?” he asks, patting the bed next to him.

Eyal shakes his head. He doesn’t look at the silky sheets or the tumble of Axel’s hair on the pillow. The long sprawl of his limbs.

Axel pouts. “Be like that,” he says, already half-asleep.

Eyal sighs and pulls the quilt up over him, then stumbles to the sofa. He closes his eyes even though he’s pretty sure he’s going to spend another night sleepless.

~ ~ ~

The next thing he knows is the light slanting in through an opening in the blinds, and Axel’s voice: “Rise and shine, it’s almost afternoon.”

Eyal groans and buries his head under the pillow.

The sofa dips and Axel is there with a cup of strong espresso. “I know,” he says quietly. “I got fucking drunk last night. My head’s still killing me.”

Eyal shoves up to a half-sit and drinks, desperate for caffeine. He’s pretty sure he stinks horribly; he’s not showered since early yesterday morning and he’s wearing the same clothes he put on then.

“Listen, if I--” Axel looks down and fiddles with the edges of the blanket. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Eyal gets what he’s saying. He shakes his head. “No, it’s okay.” A short, sharp laugh escapes. “I think we’re past uncomfortable?” Weirdly, he finds he really means it. Axel’s sexuality is harmless. It doesn’t affect him.

Axel smiles, clearly relieved. “Probably so, at that. Still. Come on, then, I’ve got eggs.”

They look at art in the afternoon -- “You have to! It’s famous and you’ve never been to Europe!” After, they go to a bar and some of Axel’s friends join them. A gay bar, mainly, with dancing couples grinding up against each other. Some of them are heterosexual, but most are men with men, plus smatterings of lesbians.

It starts out fun. Eyal revels in feeling okay with this, in the decadence and the flamboyance. He even dances with a couple of people, strangers: a woman, in from the country and there with her friend, and a young man -- a boy really -- who sidles up to him and asks. Why not?

Axel doesn’t tease him or flirt with him. It’s like he’s being careful after last night. Like despite Eyal’s assurances, he made a decision to rein in his behavior.

Eyal hadn’t really noticed how much Axel touches him, until now that he’s stopped. He watches Axel’s hands on the tall man he’s dancing and laughing with, his fingers tracing patterns on the small of the man’s back. Axel hasn’t been laughing like that with Eyal today, either, that sort of special laugh he gets. Axel’s there -- kind, friendly -- but there’s something not-there that was before. He thinks.

He has another drink and watches Axel with another guy. And then another. As the night goes on, Axel gets raunchier, like he’s relaxed into Eyal being okay with it. The straight friend who’s really, actually okay with it. Right now Axel’s snugged up against a big guy, his ass grinding back on the guy’s crotch. Axel’s eyes are closed and his head tipped back. The flashing lights illuminate the long curve of his neck, bared.

Eyal pounds back another drink and drags his attention to the people at the table with him. Marie and Friedrich, he thinks they’re named; friends of Axel’s who joined them an hour or two ago. Lovely people, people who’ve never had to think about children being blown up by bombs, or, for that matter, grandfathers who are Nazis. He talks with them over the pounding music, trying not to flick little glances to the dance floor.

A warm arm reaches past him. Axel glowing with perspiration, grinning and grabbing his glass. “Did you see that guy!” he enthuses. “He was hung like--” He darts a glance at Eyal. “Oops!” He laughs and staggers off.

“Do you think he’s okay? Safe?” Eyal regrets the words the minute they’re out of his mouth.

Axel’s friends exchange a quick glance. “Maybe you’d better find out,” Marie says archly.

A sharp dart of -- embarrassment, he supposes -- hits him. “No, that’s okay. I think I’m going back. Long day. Need some rest. Tell him--” He waves a hand vaguely in Axel’s direction and stands up, heads for the door. He’s almost there when strong arms grab him, yank him to a standstill.

“No, don’t leave so soon.” Axel, sweaty and pulling Eyal up against him, bending in so his mouth is up against Eyal’s ear. “Come on, stay.”

“I don’t think so.” Eyal shoves him away and makes it out the back door of the club. He’s partway down the alley when someone grabs him and swings him around: Axel again.

“Don’t be like this, sugar.” Axel holds onto him by the biceps. “I thought you were okay with this now.” He waves a hand at the club behind them, the drag queens making out past the dumpster.

“I am.” Eyal’s voice sounds weird in his own ears. He shoves Axel off him. “I just want to go sleep.”

“I thought you were okay with it, but now I think maybe you still do have a problem with this,” Axel says, advancing on him so he’s pressed back up against the wall of the alley. “I think maybe you have a big problem with it.” He frames Eyal’s body with his hands on the wall behind him.

Eyal can’t breathe. He’s trapped up against this wall, the beat of the disco music coming through it into his bones. His skin is on fire even though he’s freezing. “Tired,” he grits out. He can’t get the images out of his head: Axel smiling down at a cute, blond, half naked boy, Axel’s hand pressing lower, lower on the skin of the lower back of his dancing partner until it was cupping his ass, Axel leaning back into the arms of the big guy at the end, neck thrown back.. “Tired of watching you whore around, too.”

In the light from the street lamp, Eyal sees Axel narrow his eyes. “You’ve got a fuck of a lot of nerve. Just because you are fucked up about this stuff doesn’t mean I can’t have a little fun.”

Eyal huffs out a breath. “A little! How many guys a week do you take home, huh?”

“What business is it of yours, Mister uptight asshole?”

Eyal tries to shove away one of Axel’s arms, but it’s surprisingly strong. Axel laughs. “You’re doing it again. You freaked out like this over Rafik. I thought it was because he was an Arab, but now I don’t think so. Now I’m wondering.”

“What are you talking about?” Eyal’s heart is beating hard in his chest.

Axel leans in close and Eyal feels like he can’t breathe, trapped here against this wall. “Maybe it is too close to home,” he says into Eyal’s ear. “Maybe there is a part of you that wants it. You asked a lot of questions, you--”

“Stop it!” Eyal grabs Axel by the shoulders and spins them around effortlessly, pins him to the wall with his weight. “Stop it, stop it!” He shakes him a little for good measure. Axel’s body relaxes completely, like he’s purposely trying not to fight him. Axel’s t-shirt has a ridiculously loose low cut v-neck so Eyal’s fingers are on his hot, smooth skin. Axel’s mouth taunts him with what looks like a smirk.

Eyal’s dizzy with anger, his head’s spinning, and then he has Axel shoved even harder up against the wall, fingers tightening on his shoulders, knee pressed between his legs to hold him in place. Axel doesn’t move and it’s infuriating. Eyal brings one hand off his shoulders and down his chest, pressing him meaningfully against the wall. His hand ends up sliding around Axel’s waist to his lower back, catching Axel’s shirt with it, and Eyal’s touching more bare skin, skin that other guys were touching, lots of other guys, that he-- that he...

Some part of his head is screaming at him to stop, it’s wrong, he’s angry.

Axel makes a little sound and and his hands come up around Eyal’s back and -- oh god -- he pulls Eyal even tighter to him. It’s shocking, the press of their bodies together, Axel’s lean, tall height right there. Eyal has to gasp in a deep breath, and then another; it’s impossible not to feel Axel’s hard length against his belly.

That should shock him out of... whatever strange mental state he’s in, but it doesn’t, it’s like he’s in some fever-dream where his body takes over, surging hard against Axel, arms dragging him even closer. He hears himself make a noise that doesn’t even sound like him. That sounds desperate.

“Here, here,” Axel croons in his ear, working a hand down between them. “Shhh, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

Eyal’s aware, dimly, of Axel’s hand working at his zipper, his own hands sliding around the curve of Axel’s ass, but there’s a roaring in his ears and it’s like being underwater, until Axel’s long, strong fingers wrap around him, the pleasure of it so sharp and shocking it slices through the fog, has him gasping and arching into it.

“Sweetheart, _liebling_ , it’s okay. Let it go, let go,” Axel says, deep voice sending a shiver down Eyal’s spine, hardly noticeable against the ache in his belly, his cock.

He can feel Axel’s fingers shift and move, and then -- oh _fuck_ , there’s something silky and hard and body-heat-warm shoved up against him; Axel’s got everything wrapped in those fingers of his, hand sliding up and down and oh god, it’s his fucking _cock_ he’s sliding against.

His knees fail and he’s dimly aware of Axel’s other hand supporting him at his hip. He can’t think, all he can feel is pleasure. He buries his face in the humid skin at Axel’s neck, breathing in oranges and musk, and ruts desperately, panting for air.

“Let it, let yourself,” Axel grates, then groans when Eyal opens his mouth on his neck, panting.

It’s all heat and slick and the bitten-off moans Axel makes, and it’s the sounds coming from his own throat, hurt-sounding only not, and he can’t, he can’t stop it; it hits like a freight train, like a semi-automatic at twenty metres, stops everything except the curl of his body over the orgasm that hits him, whiting everything out around him, his consciousness compressing down to just pleasure.

He’s dimly aware of strong arms helping him stay upright, then of cool night air around him. Slowly, it all filters back: the alley, the drunks at the next doorway, the curl of his fingers around Axel’s hip bones. _Fuck_.

Axel.

German. Knows far too much about Eyal.

Probably sporting bruises from where Eyal gripped him, mauled him, shoved him—

Male.

“I have to. I—“ He wrenches himself away from Axel and jogs away, hiking up his zipper over the disgusting mess as he goes, running blind through strange streets of a strange city, the billboards in German like salt in a wound. He only stops to duck into a public toilet and clean himself up as best he can, blanking his mind. Not thinking about anything.

Faint light is painting the sky a dusky grey-rose when he stops at a park in the middle of a huge square he recognizes from their outing earlier. It looked festive yesterday afternoon, filled with blond children and booths selling fresh produce and hand crafted goods. In the sickly half light of pre-dawn it looks grey, stripped of all life.

He collapses on a bench and just, just breathes into his hands for a while. He tries to ride it out, the panic, the freakout -- a man, a man’s cock, a man’s hand on his cock, a man’s skin under his fingers -- gulping in air, reaching for calm. It’s what he’s fucking trained for, finding that place of utter calm in the middle of chaos; taking emotion out of the equation to make it possible for him to do what he needs to do.

It doesn’t work. He flashes on Axel’s face, the look of hurt Eyal saw for a second as he ran away. Hurt for what, Eyal can’t say. He fears it was physical hurt, being smashed up against that hard wall, manhandled by Eyal, and he’s sure there was other hurt there as well, whether for Eyal doing what he did, or possibly, for him leaving, after.

He’s halfway to the airport in a taxi before he even realizes it. The driver asks him a question -- has he enjoyed his stay in Germany -- and all he can see is Axel’s face, his expression contrasting with the pure joy when he walked into the Sea of Galilee. When Axel and Pia sang karaoke. When he knelt on the dirty street offering Eyal a bouquet.

Fuck. He can’t leave it like this. Or rather, he won’t. He’s many things, but if he has to start listing “coward” among them, then.... He doesn’t know how to end that sentence, actually. He _is_ a fucking coward. He can take on terrorists without a qualm, but not the few people in his own life. He can’t make up for what he couldn’t give Iris, but. Maybe he can at least salvage something out of this improbable friendship with Axel. If it is a friendship. He thinks maybe it was, at least.

The driver, bemused, is happy to let him off in front of Axel’s building so long as he gets paid. Once he’s standing there, Eyal freezes, staring up at the building, heart pounding.

His fear doesn’t matter. Someone as brave as Axel? He deserves an apology.

He’ll go in, gather up his things, say he’s sorry, and leave. Simple. It should be simple. Things just got out of hand, he’ll say. The stress of everything that’s happened. The new environment, so different from Israel. His anger at others, misdirected.

The door is unlocked when he arrives, and the apartment is quiet. Axel’s shoes are in the entry, though, so he’s here, probably. He takes his own off and tiptoes to where he’s left his suit bag and duffel. The stuff in the bathroom, he can leave. There’s no need, he realizes, to talk in person; he can apologize by email.

“Sneaking off?” Axel’s voice, quiet, from a heap of blankets on the sofa.

“I--” A wash of shame for his cowardice heats his cheeks. “Yes. Yeah.”

Axel laughs softly and shoves up to a half-sit, swathed in the blankets. Eyal’s eyes dart to his chest, naked under them. His skin looks very pale, burnished gold in the low light. “It’s not easy,” Axel says, low. “Any of this. What has happened.”

Eyal’s dizzy with relief that Axel is speaking to him like this. His legs give out and he lets himself collapse to a sit on the far end of the sofa. He closes his eyes against the forgiveness -- for everything -- in Axel’s tone. “You’re very,” he chokes out. “You’re very kind.”

“Not really. As you well know. It’s just. Well.”

Eyal opens his eyes at Axel’s tone. It’s almost... shy? Axel looks away. “I’m sorry,” Eyal says. “For before. Very. I don’t--”

“Me, too,” Axel says. “I shouldn’t have said those things.” The blankets are slipping slowly off one of Axel’s shoulders. Eyal can see the definition of his muscles.

“Perhaps not.” Eyal swallows. “But I -- What I said, it’s unforgiveable.”

Axel laughs, a shocking sound in the quiet.

“I’m sorry I’m so laughable,” Eyal says, looking down.

“No, no, it’s just. After what we’ve done? The things we’ve done, the both of us? This is the unforgiveable thing?”

“But the things I said. I--” Eyal bites his lip and closes his eyes. His stomach roils.

“You...?” Axel asks. There’s a soft tone in his voice and Eyal can’t, he won’t, he’s not going to put words on the feelings churning around inside him, because why? There’s no point, and the whole thing is impossible. He opens his eyes and just looks at Axel, who’s scooted a bit closer.

Axel takes Eyal’s hand gently in his. “Did you--? Did you not know, that you were, that you could... with men?”

It takes everything Eyal has to stay on the sofa, not dart out the door and slam it shut behind him. “I--I don’t.” He swallows. “I think I _was_.”

“Was...?”

“Was jealous.”

“Of?” Axel asks. “Of the freedom, the people having fun while you are dealing with such important things? Or...”

Eyal could end it here. Tell a lie, or rather, a truth that is only a partial truth. He opens his mouth to do that, say something glib and reasonable. His eyes catch on the way the soft light illuminates the planes of muscle in Axel’s shoulders, the shadows the blanket covers. His fingers itch to touch. “I--” He whispers: “Of them. Touching you.” As the words come out, hot shame washes up his neck and into his cheeks.

There’s a terrible silence in the room, until Axel moves, cautiously shifting closer to where Eyal is perched on the sofa. “Hey,” he says, then scoots closer still and lets the blanket drop as he reaches to pull Eyal into his arms.

It’s shocking, all that bare skin right _there_ under his hands, up against his chest. Without him willing them to do so, his hands trace over the muscled planes of Axel’s back, pulling him in. “I’m. I’m really messed up. Did I hurt you? I don’t know what I’m doing, and I’m--I wouldn’t, hurt you, I wouldn’t, but, I’m. I don’t know what--”

“Shh, shh,” Axel says. “You didn’t hurt me, at least not in the way you mean. Listen, I’m kind of messed up too, you know, so I let myself do it even when I shouldn’t have; I knew how you were feeling, that you were drunk. Like, I tried to sleep but I couldn’t. I kept seeing his face, my _grandfather_ , I kept--”

“You are a good person,” Eyal says, gentling Axel under his hands. “You’re a good person and you didn’t choose any of it, none of it. It came to you, and you did the best you could. It, none of it means you’re a bad person. I know what it means, to shut off one’s heart, and that is not what you have done.”

“I’m pretty fucked up, I think.” Axel pulls back and looks straight at Eyal, hand stroking along Eyal’s face. Eyal feels himself lean into it, like he can’t help it. “Like, more fucked up than I even realized. My family! My god.”

Eyal’s lips twitch into an almost-smile. “Well,” he says, making himself look Axel in the eyes and say it. “It appears I’m attracted to men. At least...” He brings his hand up, shaking, to Axel’s cheek. He says it all in a rush: “At least one of them.” His heart is racing and he feels faint. He feels heat rise up his face, up his neck, even to the tips of his ears. “I had no idea. Or, I think. I think maybe I did, once, back in the Army perhaps, but I shoved it away. Like a lot of things.”

“Like I shoved things away, about my family.” Axel half-smiles back at him and the physical reality of their situation hits Eyal all at once: sharing a cushion, hands on each other’s faces, Axel at least half-naked, maybe more under that blanket.

He looks at Axel’s lips, still in that half smile; they are full and form a bow.

“You’re looking at my mouth,” Axel says, low.

Eyal takes a breath and raises his eyes to meet Axel’s. “I am,” he replies, heart beating so hard he’s sure Axel can hear it.

Axel smiles then, a real one that reaches his eyes. “Do you...” he asks, even as he’s leaning forward, centimeter by careful centimeter, as if he’s worried Eyal will freak out again.

Fuck that, Eyal decides suddenly. Eyal’s still a man and he’s not going to wait around hesitating to take what he wants, if it’s offered. He leans in and has to close his eyes against the feeling when their mouths touch. It’s electric, a hot spark of want traveling up his spine. His hands clench around Axel’s back, then slide up to cup the back of his head, pull him in tighter.

They kiss... forever, it feels like, until Axel is pink-faced and panting, until Eyal feels like he’ll die if he can’t kiss Axel forever. At first Eyal takes the lead, as he always has in kissing, opening Axel’s mouth under his tongue. But then Axel tips Eyal’s face, holds it with both hands and pushes his tongue in Eyals mouth, exploring. Eyal lets him, relaxing into it, and Axel surges over him, hands roaming down his chest, shoving in under Eyal’s shirt and tracing the fur on his belly. Eyal moans, muffled by Axel’s mouth. Axel’s fingers tease a nipple while his tongue just _takes_ Eyal’s mouth.

“You like this,” Axel says, after a long time, breathing hard. He looks amazing, hair mussed up, eyes dark on Eyal. Eyal smiles at him and grabs him, pressing him down into the cushions, kissing him hard and then harder. Axel doesn’t struggle, but lets him take the lead again easily, and it’s heady, switching around like they are, first one, then the other more in control.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Eyal whispers after a long time, braced awkwardly above Axel.

“Do any of us?” Axel laughs. He gets more serious and grabs Eyal’s hand, brings it to his lips and kisses it, one knuckle at a time, while Eyal smiles down at him.

“What are you doing?” Eyal finally asks.

“I have no idea.” Axel darts his tongue out to lick at Eyal’s knuckles.

Eyal is transfixed, staring.

“And that’s okay,” Axel says. “Because you’ll tell me if you like it and if you don’t, yes?”

“Yes,” Eyal says, grateful for the reminder. “Yes.” He lowers himself onto Axel again and lets himself just do what he feels like, what his body wants. He can feel the corded muscle in Axel’s thighs, the scrape of stubble on his cheek, the sparse, coarse hair on his arms. It’s heady, a tall, gorgeous man like this under him. He presses down with his hips and Axel groans, then twines his feet around Eyal’s shins. Eyal gasps and Axel chuckles, letting his hands roam down Eyal’s back to first smooth over, then knead Eyal’s ass through his clothes. “You are magnificent,” he murmurs between breaths, shoving up into Eyal.

Eyal feels like he’s on fire, belly aching, cock rock-hard and thrusting down into Axel through four layers of clothing. Axel gasps again and brings his knees up higher, wraps his legs around the backs of Eyal’s thighs. A surge of heat washes through Eyal; would Axel? Does he. Does he mean... “You’d let me, uh... You know?” Eyal gasps into Axel’s ear, after licking around it until Axel is moaning.

“I suppose I could make the sacrifice,” Axel manages, chest heaving. Eyal thinks there’s the edge of a grin in his tone. He makes himself pull back and looks down at him. Sure enough, Axel’s smiling and his eyes flash with humor.

“It’s really. Is it really that--?” Eyal’s blushing again, he can feel it.

Axel, kind as always, doesn’t make him say it. “Yes. It really is that good. It can feel like heaven. So hot, you have no idea. So yes, I would really ‘let’ you. I mean, first time, you would have to be careful, I would tell you how to do it. Or...” he gives Eyal a searching look. “perhaps you with your wife, or another lady, did this?”

Eyal shakes his head, cheeks hot. “I didn’t want to.”

Axel’s eyes are warm on him, knowing. “And yet you kind of did, right?” He doesn’t seem to need a response. “Anyway, yes, if you want. Though in my experience, formerly ‘straight’ guys, they pretty much always really want to be fucked.” He dimples. “Which, I am also more than happy to provide. Or, I can just suck you. Which, I am dying to do. Or any number of other things.”

Eyal loses some seconds just staring down at him, images flashing through his head -- everything they could do, that Axel _wants_ to do. “I...” He snaps his mouth shut, overwhelmed with the possibilities.

“Hey, listen, I have a better idea.” Axel pushes on him to sit up, twists out from under him and stands. Eyal tries not to look at the front of his pants where they are tented, or the flush on Axel’s face, the way his lips are swollen and red. Axel reaches a hand down. “Come on, let’s go to bed. It’ll be better.”

Eyal stares at his hand a moment, frozen.

“Or not. We can stop. We can be friends. Whatever you want, though I--Well.”

Eyal looks up at that, the note of wistfulness Axel’s not even trying to hide. He has no idea how he got so lucky. If he were ever going to do this, he’s so lucky to have it be someone like this. He takes a deep breath and puts his hand in Axel’s, levers himself up. He makes himself smile at Axel, who looks relieved. “Let’s go, then.”

Axel grins at him, then tilts his head and holds up a finger. “Actually, before bed, shower, yes?”

Eyal nods, trying not to think about how naked they’re going to be in a few seconds.

Axel grabs his hand and pulls him to the bathroom. “Don’t freak out,” he says, turning to pull Eyal toward him while the water warms up. “Think of it as fun, like kids,” he says, smiling down at him.

Eyal rolls his eyes and pulls his shirt off. When his eyes are uncovered, he sees that Axel’s standing, just staring. Eyal blushes -- he can feel it -- which is so embarrassing, but then Axel steps closer. “Let me.” He says it down low and Eyal actually shivers. “You cold?” Axel asks in that same voice, and Eyal shivers again. He laughs, but Axel gets a predatory look and kneels right there on the bathroom floor to unzip Eyal’s pants.

“Holy--” Eyal fumbles a hand to the wall to support himself, transfixed by the image of Axel on his knees in front of him. It doesn’t last long, though; they’re both naked and in the shower in seconds, Axel wielding a huge floofy thing with some sort of fruit-scented soap on it.

“Come here,” Axel says, heat in his eyes, and Eyal does. Axel washes him with the sponge thing, starting at his shoulders, then under his arms, down his back. “Now me, the same.” Eyal takes the sponge and gets to spread soap all over Axel’s frame, rub it in circles on his skin while Axel makes happy noises.

“Now clean inside,” Axel says. “Because you never know what you might decide, what might happen.”

“I’ve heard.” Eyal swallows as Axel lathers up his hand, reaches back behind himself and -- though Eyal can’t see it -- into himself. “I’ve heard some people do the, the--”

“Enema.” Axel nods, leaning his head back distractingly; Eyal has to kiss the smooth skin of his neck, then scrape his teeth along the same path. Axel makes a sound that has Eyal’s body springing to full alertness, so he does it again. He thinks about what Axel’s fingers are doing, and he suddenly wants... He wants.

“Some people do that,” Axel says. “I have and partners have. But it’s not necessary and most of the time I don’t, so long as I’ve gone to the bathroom, or he has if it’s going to be him. Just soap is fine, or even sometimes, no soap at all. Sometimes it’s a little messy but usually you just deal with it.” Axel shakes the water out of his eyes and focuses on Eyal. “You want me to do you?” He puts fresh soap on his hand. Eyal stares. “Or not,” Axel adds. “Everything is optional.”

Eyal nods and turns around, words impossible right now. Axel uses one finger and it feels -- it feels like someone put a finger in his ass, actually, then moved it around a little. There’s more soap, and then rinsing, and it’s sort of... nice? His cheeks burn, but it’s fine and then there’s a soapy hand on his cock and okay, _that_ feels like everything good; he leans back into Axel’s body, gasping. “Feels good, yes?” Axel says in his ear, and Eyal shivers again; it’s getting embarrassing.

“Yes,” Eyal says, and suddenly he’s done with all of this foreplay and messing around; he wants to get serious about this.

He wants.

He wants Axel, and he wants to rub up against him and touch him with his mouth and he wants to come and make him come. “Come on. Enough, let’s go,” he says, and it comes out low and needy, but this time, he feels Axel shiver behind him. He takes a deep breath and grabs Axel’s hand, pulls him out of the shower.

They start toweling off, but Eyal loses patience and grabs Axel again and tugs him toward the bedroom.

“Mmmm, he-man,” Axel says.

Eyal laughs, but doesn’t stop until they’re in the bedroom and he’s pushed Axel down onto the bed.

Axel turns flirtatious again, throwing himself down on his back, then giving Eyal a coy look through his eyelashes that, even though it’s not serious, stops Eyal in his tracks. “Well?” he says, raking his eyes over Eyal, lingering.

“Yes,” Eyal says, mouth dry. He sits cautiously on the edge of the bed, shy again.

“Come here,” Axel says, voice husky, drawing Eyal down on top of him, then rolling them to their sides so they’re facing each other, all entangled. Axel’s skin is still damp and there are a few tiny droplets of water on his skin.

Not letting himself think, Eyal bends to lick at the drops.

Axel gasps, then licks a hot line up the side of Eyal’s neck, then around the shell of his ear, hands roaming on Eyal’s arms, his chest. When Eyal’s panting, Axel says low into his ear, “It would be hot to be fucked by you. So hot. All that strength. And that you’ve never done it before like that, oh my god, to see you and feel you...”

Eyal groans, hands tightening around Axel’s back.

“Yeah, you see.” Axel’s voice is throaty, hoarse. “And it would also,” he says, voice almost a whisper now, “be so hot to fuck you, your first time, how you would feel, you don’t know, you might love it...”

Eyal grabs his head and yanks him in for a kiss, moaning into it, Axel’s voice, his words, the images, making him shiver despite himself. He wants it, he wants it all...

“But right now, I want to get that beautiful cock of yours in my mouth. Okay with you?”

“Uhh,” Eyal says, shivering, then weaves his fingers through Axel’s hair as Axel kisses his way down Eyal’s chest. By the time Axel reaches his navel he’s squirming, frantic. The idea that it’s a man, now licking on one side of his belly, then the other, tracing down the crease in his leg to his thigh...

There’s finally heat and wet and suction and Axel’s strong hands holding his hips, just gently, not enough to stop him thrusting, just a grounding presence. It’s all too much, too intense. “I--I can’t--I’m going to--” he gasps out.

Axel lifts up his head, eyes shining, licks an ostentatiously naughty stripe up Axel’s aching cock. “You like it, then?”

Eyal snorts and drags him up for a breathless kiss. “You really like doing it?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s hot having a guy’s dick in my mouth; hot and hard and...”

“Stop, stop,” Eyal laughs, sliding down Axel’s body and not thinking, not thinking. Just, kissing down his smooth belly until he hits light-brown curls, then further down to nose tentatively at Axel’s cock, as long and elegant as the rest of him, foreskin pushed back, tip shiny and surprisingly warm under his tongue when he darts it out, testing.

“God,” Axel says, staring down at him wide-eyed. “I must admit I had this fantasy... After the Dead Sea, when you were asking all about penises, and before that I watched you under the shower, just for a second, water was running down your body, you were gorgeous and I--”

Eyal opens his mouth, slides it down over him.

“Ohhh. Oh, yes, that’s--”

Eyal takes his time, exploring with his tongue and lips and mouth. He’s fascinated, watching for Axel’s reactions, figuring out what makes him twitch or shiver or pant. It’s heady, feeling that long, strong body respond to him. Heady, when he starts exploring with his hands as well, running them over the hair on Axel’s thighs, the slope of his hipbones.

“That’s good, touch me. Touch me however you want, poor baby, never having gotten to touch a man. That’s good, that’s--ohhh. Oh, crap, I’m going to--Wait, wait,” Axel shoves ineffectually at Eyal’s head. “Do you want--Is this how you want me to come, or do you want something else first?” His eyes scan Eyal’s body, lingering on his shoulders, thighs, cock.

Eyal’s so turned on from sucking Ayel and feeling him under his hands, he can’t even think, but the idea of this ending now makes him crazy, even though he kind of wants to see what Axel’s come tastes like, maybe. He’s just finally gotten to do this, experience this, and he wants to do more, feel it all, do it all.

“You want to fuck me?” Axel asks, going up on his elbows and looking at Eyal through his long eyelashes. “You can, you know. I told you.”

“I--” Eyal has to breathe for a moment, just breathe. Axel’s like a vision, covered in a light sheen of sweat, sprawled out on the sheets all golden and lithe. He does, want to, and yet... He hesitates, unsure. Axel suddenly seems fragile, and it feels like a huge responsibility, touching him in that way. And also--

“Or,” Axel says, after examining Eyal’s face for a moment, “do you want,” he rolls on top of him and presses him down into the bed, “me to fuck you, so you can know what it’s like, see if you like it? I could teach you how so later, you know, if you wanted, with other guys?”

Eyal can’t breathe. He can’t say it, but he sucks in some air and nods, short.

“I thought so,” Axel laughs, reaching over to the bedside table and pulling some things out of the drawer.

Eyal’s heart is beating furiously and he can’t think, doesn’t know what to do with himself. Axel takes pity on him and draws him quickly back into his arms, kisses him gently, running soothing hands down his back. “Shhh, shhh, you don’t have to do anything.”

“It’s silly. I know it doesn’t mean anything, who does what.” He takes a breath. “Right?”

“Right. Some guys like it one way, some the other, some both like me. And lots don’t do it at all. You might decide you just like sucking and hand jobs and things like that.” He smiles at Eyal kindly. “And since it’s one of the things you can’t really experience with a woman, well, it’s good to try it, yes?”

Eyal’s chest feels tight with an emotion he can’t name. He reaches his hand to Axel’s cheek. “Thank you for. For everything.” The moment he says it he feels stupid; it sounds so formal.

“Yeah,” Axel says, stroking Eyal’s face with his fingers, eyes warm.“You, too.”

Eyal leans up and kisses him, gently, to match the mood, then harder, as their bodies press together again and the heat builds.

“I want-- Eyal says. “If you still--”

“Oh, I still.” Axel licks up the arch of Eyal’s neck. “I still. Very, very much.”

Eyal’s starting to second-guess himself by the time Axel’s got his legs spread, rubbing behind his balls and then further back. He’s supremely conscious of the little noises he can’t help making, the squelch of the tube, the way his cock is hardening more just from having Axel touch him softly there.

So it’s kind of a relief when Axel asks, “Should I should explain it as we go so you know how to do it to someone, yes?”

Eyal nods or maybe just looks relieved and Axel starts talking quietly. Once again Eyal feels grateful, since it makes it not so quiet, so focused on him.

“So, once you make it to the tushy,” he starts, grinning up at Eyal, “you have to make sure the person is very relaxed. So just some gentle rubbing on the outside is best at first. See what they like. For example, they might like a finger going in circles.” He demonstrates and Eyal feels his body relaxing. “Or,” he announces jauntily, “they might like more of a tapping.” He taps softly on the sensitive skin and Eyal is less relaxed suddenly, but not in a bad way. More like, in a way that wants more. Of something. He can’t help but squirm a bit.

Axel’s free hand strokes soothingly on his thigh. “Okay?”

Eyal nods.

Axel strokes his thigh again appreciatively. “Mmm. Your legs are so amazing.” All the time, his fingers have been working, stroking and tapping. “And you like this, I think.” He’s looking at Eyal’s cock, rock-hard under this treatment. “You can,” he says to Eyal, darting a glance mischievously under his eyelashes, “definitely suck a guy when you’re fingering him. It adds quite a bit to the sensation.”

Eyal’s going to try to respond, but before he can, Axel leans down and takes his cock into his mouth, sliding down and taking the whole thing, and at the same time, something changes -- at first he’s not sure what but he wonders, he thinks -- oh. Yes, definitely a fingertip pushing in. His body kind of wants to fight the intrusion, but he’s so relaxed and Axel’s mouth on his cock has him panting, or maybe it’s the finger, pushing a bit deeper.

“That’s it, that’s it, see, nice and relaxed and you can tell he’s liking it or at least not hating it, because his beautiful cock is hard and he’s relaxed down there and he’s breathing harder.” Axel takes a quick breath himself. “So he might be ready for two fingers pretty soon, also, you can try brushing the prostate. Usually you can find it pretty easy once you know. ”

Something shifts and changes inside and Axel shivers, ache in his belly intensifying. “Oh,” he says, reaching for his cock without thinking.

“Yeah,” Axel says low, but pushes Eyal’s hand away. “Now that’s something I’d like to see, you doing yourself, but right now you should just feel. Okay? So you can tell me if it’s okay.”

Eyal relaxes back down into the sheets and Axel smiles, “Two fingers now, you’re ready.” He doesn’t ask, and it sends a shudder down Eyal’s spine, the idea he’s just taking that, letting him do whatever he wants. He feels a bit more pressure, fullness, then something close to pleasure. “Found it,” Axel says, kissing along the sides of Eyal’s cock and pressing again at that place inside, the prostate, which of course Eyal already knew about, but in a more theoretical way.

He’s feeling shaky; sweat breaks out all over his body. Axel’s murmuring into the skin of his thigh now, moving his fingers around and -- _oh_ Eyal’s back arches and he’s pushing _into_ those long, elegant fingers, wanting more of that feeling.

“Three now, I think; tell me if it’s too much,” and there’s more pressure, more fullness. Axel leans up over him, kisses him hard. “And if you want, I think you’re probably ready now. Some guys if they can’t relax might need more, more experienced guys a lot less. But you can’t go wrong with this, and besides, it’s hot.” He watches Eyal’s face the whole time, twists his fingers and smiles when Eyal gasps.

“So when he’s ready,” Axel says, voice pushed down into his lowest register, “you can get inside him. Condom, always, but I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that.” Axel pulls his fingers out carefully. It feels weird, empty. “I think... Turn on your side. For a first time I think that would be best.” He moves Eyal around so he’s snugged back against Axel. “Okay?” His mouth is close to Eyal’s ear and it feels suddenly very intimate.

Eyal nods, glad in a way that Axel can’t see his face any more. He feels Axel take in a deep breath, then another. There’s pressure, then more pressure. “Last chance to say no,” Axel murmurs in his ear. “Well, I mean, of course we can stop at any time. I just mean--”

“Do it,” Eyal says, voice coming out hoarse.

“Breathe out,” Axel warns, then pushes in, slow, but it feels so thick, so impossible.

Eyal remembers what Axel told him, after he’d asked if it hurt, doing this. And he’d been right; it doesn’t hurt, not exactly; he’s expertly relaxed and prepared. It’s shocking, though, the intrusion of something into his body. It feels --- He doesn’t know how it feels. There’s an ache deep inside that’s making him restless. Part of him wants to pull away and part of him wants to push back for more. Either way, he wants _something_ to happen. Needs something to happen.

“Breathe,” Axel murmurs, and there’s something new in his voice; Eyal realizes Axel’s being affected by this too. That sends a shiver up Eyal’s spine that shifts him just a little and there’s a sharper jolt of pleasure over the ache. Eyal braces against the bed and arches back without thinking about it. Axel groans, then lowers his forehead to Eyal’s shoulder, panting. “Yes?” he asks in Eyal’s ear.

“Yes.” Eyal grabs at Axel’s hand reflexively, squeezes it, thankful again for the care he’s taking with him. Axel squeezes back, then kisses Eyal’s shoulder. That relaxes Eyal more and something kind of gives, and then Axel’s even further in. Eyal feels him panting into the skin of his shoulder, hot breaths making his skin prickle.

Eyal feels shocky, everything narrowed down to their two bodies, the thick, hot presence inside him, the slight current against the side of his face from Axel’s exhalations, the prickle of stubble against his shoulder.

It’s shocking and visceral and terrifying and. And fucking hot, as Axel starts moving inside him, one hand on his hip to keep him steady, the other hand still clenched in Eyal’s. He moves slowly, steadily, at first, until Eyal’s sweating and shoving back _onto_ Axel’s cock, until he’s desperate for friction on his own.

He rolls enough so he’s able to rut a little against the sheets, but it’s not enough. He shifts even further until he’s on his stomach; Axel rolls with him awkwardly, managing to stay inside, but it’s not like it was.

Axel makes a frustrated noise and yanks on his hip and Eyal shoves up, and suddenly he’s on all fours and everything just _works_. Axel gasps and shoves in hard -- harder than he has so far. Eyal has to hang his head and breathe in fast, shallow breaths against the pleasure that rocks him.

“Yeah, yeah, you feel it, you see,” Axel murmurs as he thrusts with that deceptively thin, muscled body.

Eyal can’t even form words, it’s overwhelming, sheer physicality, an angle that hits dead on inside in a way that’s got his toes curling, and then. And then, Axel reaches around with one hand, anchoring him firmly in place with his other hand on Eyal’s hip, and wraps those fingers around his cock.

A sound leaves Eyal’s lips he’s never heard himself make before; usually he’s quiet in bed.

“Yeah, yeah, baby,” Axel says, kissing the sweat-damp skin at Eyal’s nape. “I knew it would be like this. Oh god, you’re so--” his hands roam on Eyal’s back, his thighs, his shoulders -- “so hot and strong and I knew this would feel so good for you, so--”

Eyal groans and everything’s wet and hot and there’s an ache building inside him and in his balls and his thighs and his belly and even his fucking chest; it’s like nothing he’s felt, somebody inside him and all around him--

“Oh, god. You’re--” Axel nips at Eyal’s neck.

Eyal shudders, full-bodied.

“Mmm, like that?”

“Yes, I. Everything. It’s...”

“Baby, poor baby, all this time, you didn’t even. I can’t. I’m so close, I--” He nips again, only this time it’s more of a bite.

Eyal shudders again and there’s a flash of actual pain at his neck, then open-mouthed panting; soothing, hot tongue licking where Axel had bitten.

“I can’t, any longer,” Axel groans, then firms his grip around Eyal’s cock. “So gorgeous, so hot, you’re so tight, so responsive, perfect, and your cock, just having it in my hand, being inside you,” he babbles in a steady stream in that deep, sensitive voice and it’s that, maybe even more than the final, frantic strokes, that shove Eyal over the edge, body curling in on itself, thighs cramping, trying to shove harder into Axel’s hand and onto his cock at the same time. It’s blinding, white-hot, and he’s still gasping when he feels Axel stiffen, then groan into his ear.

It goes on a long time, Axel twitching inside him -- _inside_ him in aftershocks, Eyal rocked by another himself whenever he feels it.

Eventually Eyal slumps, arms shaking from the exertion of holding himself up, especially with Axel almost a dead weight on his back.

“Oh. Oh, sorry, I’m not doing my job, taking care, I--Here, just a moment.” Axel pulls out slowly, does something with the condom, then slumps on top of Eyal where he’s collapsed.

“Jesus,” Axel says after a minute, running warm hands up Eyal’s arms. “Are you okay? i didn’t hurt you?”

Eyal laughs -- a surprise to himself. “No. No, I’m not hurt.” He feels a ridiculous urge to laugh more, but instead he tries to get out from under Axel.

Axel slides to the side and pulls Eyal to him, kissing his face, the corner of his mouth, his lips. He slides his hand through Eyal’s hair, stroking at his temples. “Are you sure? It got so intense, I was rough. You’re going to be sore, or uncomfortable at least.”

It’s astoundingly intimate, that this man has been _inside_ him, that he’s stroking his face, kissing him, holding him close, and suddenly Eyal needs--He doesn’t know what, but he pulls away from Axel. “No! Don’t go away,” Axel says with an exaggerated pout. “This is the good part. Well, one of them,” he says, leering. Eyal knows he’s supposed to laugh, but he just. It’s too much, it’s just.

He suddenly flashes on a memory of Iris when she was younger, when they were younger. They were never carefree, but they laughed sometimes, held each other and laughed together in bed. That was a long time ago, but it suddenly is too much, wrong, that he’s here, doing this. “I--”

Axel pulls back and looks at him, really looks. His expression changes. “I’m sorry if I.”

“No, you’re--You’re great. It’s just. I think I really can’t, right now-- I need to just breathe for a little bit.”

“Sure. Sure.” Axel scoots away. “Help yourself to food, whatever, the bathroom. I. I feel stupid.”

“No, no, just. It’s nothing to do with you. Go to sleep. I’m just going to, you know.

Axel nods and Eyal thinks he probably believes Eyal’s going to leave. Which, maybe he is. He’s not sure. He cleans up some and pulls on his pants, goes out to the living area, which is mercifully dark and quiet. He sits and stares into the darkness, closes his eyes, taking long, deep breaths. In, out. In, out. Until he’s calmer.

He can’t decide what he’s reacting to. Everything, probably. There’s been a lot. In fact, compared to everything else, the idea of having sex with a man seems pretty trivial. Except for how earth shattering it was. He can’t deny that it was, and it makes him wonder, has this part of him always been there, just buried under all the people he thought he needed to be? Angry Mossad member, bad husband, casual bigot.

Did having this inside him _make_ him into any of those things?

He hears Axel use the bathroom, and braces for him to come in, but he doesn’t. There are rustling sounds meaning he got back into bed. Once again, giving Eyal what he needs. His throat feels tight and he looks over toward the door to the bedroom. A light goes on briefly, then switches off.

He breathes out, and then in, and gets up and walks back into the bedroom, takes off his pants, sits down on the bed and lies carefully down.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come back,” Axel says quietly.

“I wasn’t either.” Eyal reaches for Axel’s arm and squeezes it in gratitude. “But I did. I want to. Be here. That is, if you want...?”

“Oh, I want.” Axel smiles at him and Eyal can’t help smiling back.

“Thank you,” Eyal whispers.

“You’re welcome,” Axel says, shaking his head. “It’s such a sacrifice.”

“You know what I mean. But,” Eyal says, starting to grin, “perhaps you are going to have to make another sacrifice.” Eyal reaches for Axel and wraps his arms around him and kisses him, first soft, then harder as the heat between them builds again.

“How ever will I bear it?” Axel says a little later.

Eyal grins and kisses slowly, slowly down his body. “You’ll think of a way, I’m sure.”

Axel laughs, then groans, and they don’t say much more for a long, long time.

~ ~ ~

The ride to the airport a day and a half later is quiet. Neither of them says anything beyond necessary instructions to the cab driver. For some reason Axel insists on coming with him; Eyal’s not sure why.

“Here,” Axel says at the gate, pressing something warm into Eyal’s hand. “I kept it. I thought you perhaps would--” He stops and looks down at his shoes.

Eyal opens up his hand. It’s the flower he wove in Axel’s hair that first night. Missing a couple of petals, wilted.

“It seemed. Oh, it seems so stupid now.” Axel’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

“No, not stupid.” Eyal has to clear his throat. “It’s. We have been through a lot. It’s--You...” Fuck it, this is the kind of thing he’s sworn to be better at. Besides, it’s unlikely he’ll ever see this man again. He looks straight into Axel’s eyes, holds his gaze. “You are a very special person. Don’t forget that, okay? I wish...” He doesn’t finish the sentence: they both know the realities of the situation.

“I wish, also.” Axel sounds more like himself, honest and self-revealing. “Even if there were a chance that--Obviously you must stay in Israel; you belong there.”

“And you in Germany.”

Axel shakes his head. “I am not so sure about that. Any more. But... as you know, I am not good at complicated things.” He smiles. “Not to say you would even want complicated, but...”

Eyal ducks his head and smiles. “I might, though. But, it’s all impossible.” He takes Axel’s hand and squeezes it, flower held tight in his other hand. “We. We can be friends, though? Write each other and all of that? I would like that, if you would.”

“Yes, so very much,” Axel says, and then they’re hugging, arms tight around each other. Axel still smells slightly of oranges, and perhaps a little of Eyal, which makes something flare hot and tight in his belly again, even as he’s forcing himself to let him go.

Before he knows it, they’re calling his flight and it’s time to board.

Eyal doesn’t look back once as he heads onto the plane.

~ ~ ~

There’s an email already waiting for Eyal when he finally arrives home and he smiles. It’s very like Axel to take that first step and make sure there’s not any awkwardness about starting up a correspondence. Sure enough, it’s a breezy note about his neighbor’s latest escapade, and a followup story about one of the children Axel works with. Only at the end does the tone change:

 _I think it right to tell you that I have been--I’m struggling to come up with a word that is right. I think I will say that I am moved by knowing you. As trite as that sounds, perhaps that is as close to a right word as there is. I am struggling also with what I have learned about my family, and about myself. I had a nightmare last night. Somehow I don’t think it’s my last._

 _I wanted to tell you, that I admire you for your devotion to your Iris. Though I know you don’t want to think of it that way, to me it is amazing, that you were with one person and gave so much. I’m sorry I didn’t say that in person, but, I know it is difficult for you to talk about. You see, you need to think not just of the bad things, but of the good as well._

 _Now, changing the subject, I think since we are now to be friends, you must go find some guys to mess around with and come gossip to me, and if you wish, I will do the same in return. There are many things and people to experience and I think it is time for you to do that._

 _Axel_

Eyal reads it three times and finds himself smiling, despite himself. He writes a quick reply and sends it off without letting himself think. Axel writes back the next day, Eyal two days later, Axel three days after that, then Eyal right away, twice in a day, so it becomes what they do, writing each other late at night or in the spaces of their days. There are texts, too, random things out of nowhere: funny things and frustrations, occasional deeper thoughts. They talk on the phone as well, but not very often, and it’s more difficult and usually awkward when they do. It doesn’t bother them, though, that it’s awkward. As Axel writes after one of their first, halting conversations, after what they have experienced, they can deal with it; it doesn’t matter.

One night very late, Eyal wakes to a rare phone call from Axel. He’s clearly drunk, boisterous and loud. His voice drops theatrically, though, after a minute. “Eyal, can I tell you a secret? I miss you. I don’t know why but there’s no one quite--” His voice lowers into another register and gets more urgent. “I want you. I want to be with you, feel your hands on me, your mouth, I--”

“Axel, wait, are you--” Eyal pulls himself up groggily in bed to sitting. “Where are you? Are you alright?”

“I’m. I don’t really know where. Some guy’s place, leaving it now, going to get a cab. Because I didn’t like him. He was rude and stupid and.” There’s the sounds of a door opening and then the sounds of a busy street. Axel lowers his voice dramatically. “Eyal, I want you. I want to be inside of you and if you want, you to be inside of me, and I want to go down on you, your beautiful, big--”

“Axel!” Eyal yells. “Stop, stop. Are you in public?”

“Yeah I guess,” Axel says, and Eyal can see the pout through the phone.

“Just. Go home. Then you can call me. Okay. You will do this, yes?”

“Okay, I guess. Because. You’re taking care of me. I knew you’d take care of me.” His voice fades off, then there’s a click.

Eyal tosses and turns, half-waiting for Axel to call back, but he never does. The next day, very late, there’s an email:

 _Well that was probably embarrassing. Fortunately I don’t remember much. Did we have phone sex? Because that would be hot. Haha just kidding. I suppose._

 _But Eyal, seriously, I am sorry. I have been having kind of a rough time and I just. Sometimes I want something more, you know?_

 _Ignore me. Low mood. Aftermath of stupid decisions.  
_

Eyal sits for a long time in front of his computer, staring at the screen. His throat feels tight and he puts his head into his hands for a moment. It’s ridiculous to have these feelings about a man he was around for only a couple of weeks. And yet.

He finally sends a response, after writing and deleting many attempts:

 _I think because of you and all that has happened I am becoming an Israeli man who talks about his feelings. As you know I am doing what you suggested and trying things with different men but for me, without that certain connection I find only with a few people, it is not satisfying. Still, I try to have fun as you wish me to, and I succeed some of the time but always I too want something more._

 _You do not ever need to apologize to me. I am sorry you are having a difficult time. I understand._

 _As for me, you know this already but, I don’t really like who I have become. I am working on some changes that perhaps will help some. I’ll tell you more if it works._

 _I am not sure I can go on going to the clubs and trying sex with the men there. It’s the right thing, you’re right about that, because I need to experience it, to see what I like and do not like, but there are things I would never do with a stranger and also. Well. I miss you, too. As to your question about women, the truth is, for whatever reason, I have no eyes for any women these days. I doubt I will again._

 _I am going north today and I will say hello to the Sea of Galilee for you. Perhaps this will be the day I can walk on water! : )_

He doesn’t tell Axel why he’s going north. It’s actually more than one reason, but mainly, to visit an old school mate who maybe can help him with what he wants to do. They talk until late, so the sun is going down over the Sea when he stops there after their visit. It feels like a place not on earth, orange and pink painting the sand and water, sky infused with color.

There’s no one else there at the beach they went to, so Eyal sits and watches the sun sink lower and lower, breathless at the beauty of his country, his people’s land. He takes pictures on his phone, ridiculous numbers of pictures. That night when he returns home, he sends them to Axel. He doesn’t write anything, just sends them. He knows he doesn’t need to say anything at all.

When he wakes up, he has an email. It’s just a smiley face. Warmth grows in his chest and stays there throughout the long week ahead, the weeks after that.

They keep writing. They both keep sleeping with other men, but Axel seems to be slowing down with it. He calls Eyal once in a while, drunk, like that first time, but they don’t make a big deal of it. Pia’s seeing someone nice, and Eyal goes up there to meet him, in a gap in his new job when he has a couple of days. He still won’t dance the folk dances, but this time he stays and watches, clapping along in time when the children make him.

He goes back home from the kibbutz loaded up with fresh produce. He listens to Sivan Shavit on the long drive and remembers driving this road with Axel, the song weaving a spell over the night.

 _the two of us are driving in a car; you tell me it will be a long ride  
I’m not sleeping, I’m counting stars through holes in the blanket  
you singing along with the radio, a love song  
kiss me strong  
kiss me till it hurts_

He can’t help it; his thoughts go to Axel. His kind heart, his intelligence. His ruthlessness when it mattered. His long, strong fingers and beautiful body. His daring and sense of fun in bed. The intimacy of their conversations, in person or long distance.

He throat feels tight and his eyes sting. He shakes his head and stabs at the CD player. He puts in the Boss and clears his head of everything except driving, kilometers under the wheels. _Born to Run_ : there’s a reason it’s one of his favorite songs.

~ ~ ~

It goes on like that, with them living their lives, writing emails and texting each other all the time.

Eyal is beginning to think it’s not healthy. It really hits when the nice young man he brings home one Saturday night flounces out when Eyal pauses the action to send first one, and then another text. “If you want to live your life through your phone it’s fine with me,” he says, gathering up his silky shirt and pulling it back on in one smooth move. “Personally I prefer guys who, I don’t know, _look_ at me once in a while.

Eyal apologizes, but makes no real effort to keep him there. The guy is right.

Eyal has no interest in him.

~ ~ ~

It takes Eyal weeks to do it, but finally, after multiple drafts, he shuts his eyes and presses Send. The minute he does, he regrets it, cold all over with certainty it will ruin their friendship. But there it is:

 _Axel I need to tell you this. I have tried not to feel this way, because it is impossible, of course. But I feel things for you. I do not know how we could ever do it, and of course you will not want to, but if I could make wishes true, I would try to have something with you. I do not know how it would work, but with my new job I may have freedom to travel some, and perhaps you--_

 _But I have already said too much. It is just that I want you to know that things are changing inside of me. I dream these days, and often it is of you. You by the shore of the Sea of Galilee, turning to me, smiling, beckoning me in. Somehow I know in my dreams that if I follow, I will be able to walk on the water, just as you said._

 _I know you are not interested in anything complicated, and I am complicated in all ways. As well as rather ridiculous. So I know that it is impossible. But I just felt I needed to say it, to purify what’s inside me and what comes from me into the world; to speak the truth._

A few minutes later, frantic with worry, stomach in knots, he writes another: _please ignore what I wrote. I just want to always be friends that is the important thing._

He watches for a response that night for a long time before finally going to bed.

Axel never writes him back. The texts stop, the calls. Eyal sits down to write to explain, to take it back, but he finds he can’t. The words simply won’t come.

It surprises him that Axel is reacting in this way; he’d thought he would gently let Eyal down, not cut off all communication.

He feels like he got hit in the stomach, like he can’t get air through his throat. He forces himself through the motions of living and thinks he’s doing okay at that, but people at work notice and offer him tea and chocolate, sympathetic smiles.

Everything looks a bit grey. People seem washed-out. His chest hurts. His apartment is very, very quiet.

~ ~ ~

There’s a triple suicide bombing near Eyal’s work. It shakes him like he didn’t think he could be shaken any more; his dreams turn into nightmares of the killing he’s done, the killing he still wants to do.

He can’t sleep; there are bags under his eyes in the mirror.

He avoids his computer because he doesn’t want to see it, the news reports, the photos splashed on every local website. The radio, as always at these times, is full of sad songs, useless. He even turns his phone off; there’s no need for it. That’s why he’s shocked when he finally turns it on to find there are a double-digit number of missed calls and texts waiting for him; all from Germany’s country code.

He sits down abruptly on the feelings that wash through him; relief, hope, frustration, anger. He stares at the phone for a while before he starts checking the messages. By the time he’s listening to Axel’s fifth voice mail, hearing the note of desperation in his voice, his heart is tripping fast, fast.

He pulls up the last text Axel sent and reads it:

 _I’m sorry. I’m an idiot. Immature, stupid. Afraid. I was afraid. Please please be okay, they said it was right there, the area you said your new work is in. please. please eyal i don’t deserve you writing me back but please. i need to know you’re okay._

Eyal takes a deep breath, then another. _okay_ , he sends. Then, because he understands what it’s like to regret: it’s okay.

His phone rings instantly. Axel. Eyal stares at it. He’s not cut out for this, all this stuff. It’s too hard; he feels like he’s going to throw up.

He answers the phone anyway. “Hello.”

“Oh, god.” Axel breathes out a huge gust of air, and his voice sounds all clogged. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Oh, thank god you’re okay. You’re okay, really? I’ve been trying to call forever, I called Pia finally and I called your landlady and I just--” his voice breaks and Eyal’s chest hurts and his eyes sting and this is all just too hard. All of it.

“It’s okay,” Eyal says, his own voice coming out like a croak. “It’s okay. Really.”

“No, it’s not. I have been a complete asshole, and it’s because in addition to everything else wrong with me, I am a coward. And when I heard, and I thought--The idea I had let you think...” There are muffled sounds on Axel’s end of the line and Eyal wishes he could touch him, comfort him. All his anger somehow transforms into something else. “Axel, Axel, sweetheart, it will be okay.”

“No, no. I fucked this up and I know you are angry, of course you are. You should be. I just, I had to think. It’s all just. I had to think and then every day it got harder and I--”

“Axel, listen,” Eyal says as gently as he can. “I have to go now. I stepped away from my job and have to go back, but it is okay. Don’t beat yourself up.”

“You cannot go until you say we can talk tonight. You must promise me. Please, Eyal.”

Eyal swallows. “Okay, yes. Okay.”

~ ~ ~

They do talk that night, and the next, and it _is_ okay. Not that it isn’t hard and awkward, because it is. Axel keeps apologizing, trying to explain, and Eyal tries to get him to stop. Finally, Eyal snaps, “You are either going to do that again or not. Saying you will not do it doesn’t make it not happen.”

There’s total silence, and Eyal knows he’s gone too far; his filters are slipping more and more these days. “I’m--” he starts, but Axel cuts in:

“No, you are right. Words do not mean a lot in this context.”

So Axel talks about his childhood, how cold and reserved his parents always were, how it feels to find out that behind that cool facade hid something so huge that it feels like the earth shifted on its axis under Axel’s feet. How it feels to be nothing but trouble to one’s parents.

They don’t talk about Eyal’s email confession, though, not really. That is more than fine with Eyal, whose cheeks burn just thinking about it.

They’re back to something close to their former friendship when Axel says hesitantly one night, “I am going to have a different phone number for a while.” It’s one of those phones you buy in a store packed with minutes on it. He mumbles something that doesn’t make a lot of sense about waiting for a new phone.

Eyal’s distracted anyway by how tense the nation is right now, how tense it is at work, so he doesn’t think much about it, simply enters the numbers dutifully into his phone.

“Are you okay?” Axel asks, picking up on Eyal’s mood.

“Yeah, just. It’s hard to be hopeful, sometimes. You know?”

“I know,” Axel says fervently. And Eyal guesses he does, at that.

~ ~ ~

“I may be a little harder to reach than usual,” Axel had warned him. And he is, a bit, but they talk late at night a lot, and the emails fly back and forth. Eyal has a feeling that Axel’s doing something important. He figures he’ll tell him about it when it’s time.

One night sometime in the Spring, there’s a new email waiting for Eyal marked with the title line, “Terrified”:

 _I know you have been patient, have not asked about what I’ve been doing. I am not quite ready to explain it all, but I have been doing a lot of thinking, and I wonder--Do you still want--Does the offer still stand, if we could find a way, would you still like to try something with me?_

 _I feel cowardly asking in email and yet when I thought of asking on the phone I thought you might not have time to think and might tell me what I want to hear, because Eyal, I only want your truth. It will make no difference how I feel about you or how I am your friend, what answer you give._

 _You know I suck at relationships and we would have everything stacked against success. We do not even know if or how it would work._

 _Yet at the same time, I have dreamed of you, too. I have been working on growing up, just as perhaps you have been working on becoming younger in spirit. Maybe we could now meet in the middle. All the details are right now irrelevant. Just think about the main question._

Eyal feels his heart skip a beat, trip hard for a few seconds, then skip another. He’s breathless and shaky.

What they’re talking about -- what he’s thinking about -- has to be insane, right?

But being careful never got him anything he wanted.

More exactly, being careful meant never _wanting_ anything. He wants Axel, with a deep ache that’s not just physical.

He wants.

He slips open his phone and dials Axel’s strange number. It’s unlikely he’ll answer, but--

He answers. Eyal just breathes, suddenly unable to speak. “I...”

“Eyal,” Axel says, voice laden with warmth.

“Yes,” Eyal manages through his constricted throat. “Yes, I. I have no idea what I am doing, or how, but. Yes. If you really--”

“I have waited until I am sure. Well,” he laughs nervously, “as sure as is possible for something so crazy. Eyal, just, wait a day and I will speak to you tonight and we can make some plans, yes? I have to go in a minute but tonight we will speak of this.”

“Okay, sure, yes.” Eyal feels whipsawed but he can do that.

“Tonight.”

Eyal shakes his head to clear it, dresses for work and forces himself to focus on the moment: the old lady whose laundry he helps carry, the man he directs to the right place for assistance, and of course, the children. Lately, it’s mainly the children. If he thinks like one of them, perhaps the wait until tonight, or the wait until whenever they can see each other, won’t feel as long.

~ ~ ~

It’s almost the end of the day. It’s been a typical, boring shift -- boring except for how any day could be the one that bombs go off or people start shooting. Boring except for how he’s buzzing with anticipation about talking with Axel tonight, possibilities he doesn’t even want to let himself think about.

The children of the workers, the Palestinian ones, are out of school and are doing their usual thing, playing in the street with scraps of cardboard and metal and anything else they can scavenge. Some of them are playing with a ball Eyal brought today; he made them say their alphabet before he gave it to them.

The others, the little ones, are playing their favorite game, making Eyal pretend to be a monster; they try to run as close to him as they can without him grabbing them. Except they actually want him to catch them sometimes; they giggle and laugh, grinning, when he does, especially when he tickles them and makes monster sounds. It’s undignified and not really conducive to standing watch well, but on the other hand, the children bring him intelligence, let him know if there are any threats being whispered about in the streets.

He’s being ridiculous, fake-roaring at three kids, when he sees him: Axel.

He’s across the street, hands in the pockets of his ridiculous coat, smiling tentatively in Eyal’s direction.

Eyal’s heart skips a beat and he blinks, thinking maybe he’s conjured up a hallucination.

Axel -- it’s definitely him, real -- walks toward him, smile growing bigger, maybe at something he sees on Eyal’s face, or maybe at the kids, still hanging onto his shirt, saying, “Eyal, Eyal, don’t stop.”

Or maybe Axel is smiling because of where Eyal’s working; he keeps darting glances at the Peace Now sign over the door, the children, Eyal himself.

Eyal had never told Axel what he was doing for a job these days. It felt like something he had to do for just himself, for a while. He doesn’t support everything they do or believe in, but he decided they deserved a chance to try for solutions in as much safety as possible, without being blown up or shot at.

Axel comes to a stop a few feet from Eyal and stands there awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot. He looks like he’s having as much trouble coming up with words as Eyal is.

“What--What are you--” Eyal says.

Axel opens his mouth, shuts it, opens it again. “I am in Israel. I have been. Up north, with Pia, working on the kibbutz. With the children mainly but also doing labor. I swore her to secrecy, I am sorry, but I had to see. If it was right, the way I felt, that I maybe belonged here in this country. Now I am babbling and you are not saying anything and I--”

“What are you saying?” Eyal asks. “What do you mean?” He gently pries two small children off him, indicates they should go play with the others.

Axel doesn’t speak, just opens his mouth, than shuts it. His face is red and he looks like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

“What are you doing here?” Eyal’s heart is beating fast, fast. “You do not--That is, if we are in the same country, you do not, with guys in the same country, you never--”

“I.” Axel swallows, then makes an obvious effort to pull himself together and looks at Eyal in that straightforward way he has. “As I wrote you, I... am tired of uncomplicated. That is, if you still --”

Eyal’s body flushes warm and his heart pounds and he can’t get any words out. He swallows and closes his eyes for a moment, gathering himself together, then opens them and reaches for Axel, pulls him in gently by his biceps, then with his hands around his back. Eyal hugs Axel to him with all of his strength; Axel gasps out a little breath and brings his arms around Eyal, pulling him in in return.

Eyal feels Axel shaking, or maybe it’s him. “You would be in the same country,” Eyal murmurs, knowing he’s repeating something they’ve already been over but unable to stop himself. “You would be in the same country and yet you would--”

“Be with you,” Axel says, firmly now. “If you wish it. If you want it.”

“Complicated,” Eyal manages to say.

“Very, very complicated,” Axel says, and Eyal can sense his smile though his face is buried in Axel’s neck.

“Oh,” Eyal says. “Oh,” and breathes in the scent of Axel, burrows further into his chest, pulls him in even tighter.

Eventually they untangle themselves. Eyal feels like he’s drunk or drugged or something; everything seems surreal. Their surroundings fade and all he can see is Axel, ducking his head shyly and sneaking glances at Eyal, smile starting to pull at the edges of his mouth.

Eyal ducks into the office to work things out, and they head to Eyal’s apartment by unspoken agreement.

“Peace Now,” Axel says as they’re walking. “That’s... amazing. Are you--That is, do you think...?”

Eyal clears his throat, tries to get his voice back. “I am still pessimistic about humanity. Just, trying to... Not amends, because there are not--It is not even as if--” Eyal sighs. It’s difficult to understand for him, let alone explain to someone else.

“No, I think I understand.” Axel stares at his hands as they wait for a crossing light. “It is kind of like me. Working with the children, the children on the kibbutz. I am learning Hebrew. I just--”

“Strange to think you have been right here,” Eyal says, stopping on the sidewalk and turning toward Axel.

Axel grips his forearm, leans in and speaks urgently. “I have not told you, because I felt... I felt like I had things I had to figure out, before I did. In case you meant it. I had to make sure I was ready. Do you understand me?” He waits until Eyal is looking at him, then locks his eyes on Eyal’s. “It is not like I think I can make up for the sins of my ancestors. That is impossible. And I believe, not even required. It is just--I don’t know, I need to do it. And I needed to figure out who I am. If I am a grownup now,” he adds, with a half-smile.

Eyal smiles back, just a bit. “Well, I do understand part of it at least. Except for me the sins are my own. Not that they did not deserve death. But, I do not think it is my job any more.”

~ ~ ~

“So,” Axel says, barely-disguised panic on his face. “Uh.”

Eyal is kind of enjoying watching the normally-carefree Axel be so nervous, but as his own nerves are in high gear he takes pity on him -- on _them_ \-- and besides it’s what he’s been wanting to do since he saw him standing there on the street. He fights down the flutter in his stomach and walks straight into Axel’s space, pulling his head down for a kiss the moment his apartment door is closed behind them, backing Axel up against the door.

“Shouldn’t we--” Axel tries to say when he comes up for air, but Eyal kisses down his neck, under the curve of his jaw where he remembers he was particularly sensitive. Axel tips his head back and it thwacks against the door. Eyal goes up on his toes and kisses Axel’s mouth again, hard, insistent. He pushes in with his tongue until Axel is panting, hands roaming restlessly on Eyal’s arms and shoulders. It’s like drowning, the taste of Axel in his mouth, the feel of Axel’s hands on his body, his long, strong muscles under Eyal’s fingers.

Eyal finally lets Axel up for air when his heart is tripping fast in his chest, when he feels Axel go from surprised and uncertain to hungry and wanting. “You have a habit of pushing me up against things,” Axel growls, flipping them around so it’s Eyal against the door.

“Are you complaining?” Eyal asks, while Axel kisses down his neck, undoes the top button of his shirt and sucks at the soft skin there.

“No. It’s hot. I thought about it, even though it is kind of wrong, how strong you are. Let’s go to bed. Unless...”

There’s that uncertain note in Axel’s voice again and Eyal pulls his head in close so their foreheads are leaning together. “We have all the time to talk, but we will both be so nervous until we do this, I thought...?”

“Genius. Talk is overrated,” Axel says, pressing up against Eyal so their bodies line up, running his hands down and around so they’re cupping Eyal’s ass, then pulling him in hard.

They both groan; then they’re kissing again. Eyal wants more leverage to shove their hips together; he lifts one leg up and winds it around Axel’s upper thigh.

“Oh. Oh, god,” Axel groans, capturing the back of Eyal’s head in his hand and kissing the shit out of him until Eyal can’t think of anything except Axel’s warm body right _there_ , his tongue in Eyal’s mouth, his wide, strong hand under Eyal’s ass. If they didn’t have clothes on, they could almost...

Axel rips his mouth off Eyal’s and pants, “Bed?”

“Please yes.”

It takes them a while to disentangle just enough to make it down the hall, trailing pieces of clothing as they stop to take them off each other.

They fall onto the bed and it’s overwhelming, the feel of Axel’s skin up against his, his lips on Eyal’s face, his neck, his chest, their bodies intertwined. It’s frantic and rough, tumbling around on the sheets as they try to get their bodies lined up.

“Here, here,” Eyal gasps, sliding down Axel’s body and wrapping his lips around Axel’s cock without wasting any time on preliminaries. Axel groans, sliding his fingers into Eyal’s hair, clutching and then relaxing them as if he’s fighting the desire to pull. Eyal’s frantic with want for Axel and shakes his head, stops his licking and sucking long enough to say, “You can be rough, I want it.”

Axel moans and shivers under him, then tightens his grip on Axel’s head and starts to fuck up into his mouth. It’s hot as hell, the feeling of Axel using him like this, and Eyal moves so his cock is against Axel’s leg and he can get something to rut against. He uses his tongue and even his teeth a bit and Axel grabs his head harder, then lets go and fists his hands in the sheets. “I’m going to, I can’t. I don’t think I can wait--”

Eyal doesn’t want him to wait, he wants him to fall apart under him, and he moves his hand to Axel’s balls, strokes them, then squeezes gently. Axel writhes underneath him, gasping when Eyal strokes behind his balls on the smooth skin there. “I. I can’t--” he gasps.

Eyal pulls off long to enough to say, letting desperation into his voice, “I want you to, I want you to come. Give it up, I want to watch, I want to see--”

“Jesus,” Axel groans, then arches and comes, a warm salty flood in Eyal’s mouth. It’s incredibly hot, Axel making noises and trying not to grip Eyal’s hair. Eyal swallows most of it, and just _that_ ratchets up the ache in his belly even more; he realizes suddenly that he’s close to coming himself and is rutting furiously against Axel’s leg.

He puts his forehead down on Axel’s stomach to focus and Axel croons, “It’s okay, it’s okay, scoot up just a little,” reaching down for Eyal, who’s frantic now, so close, so close.

“You’re amazing, so hot, look at you, just look,” Axel murmurs, rolling to his side and pulling Eyal up so he can wrap his hand around Eyal’s cock, then press it up against the sweat-slick skin of his stomach. “Come on,” he says, low, leaning in to lick a stripe across Eyal’s lips, sliding Eyal’s cock harder against the growing mess on his belly.

Eyal can only pant, open-mouthed.

Axel grins at him and flicks his thumb over the head of Eyal’s cock and Eyal’s coming, clutching at Axel’s biceps and biting the meat of his shoulder, coming in ribbons all over Axel’s stomach and chest. It’s a long time until he stops rocking under Axel’s hand, shuddering every time.

Eventually he lays his head down, panting onto Axel’s collarbone, and he realizes Axel’s stroking his head now, just stroking, gentling him. Eyal turns his head and kisses at the soft skin of Axel’s chest and Axel hums. Eyal does it again, and again, for a long time, Axel’s hand on his head gentle now, a balm.

“Well,” Axel says after a long time, “that certainly got us reacquainted quickly.”

Eyal snorts.

Axel pulls back and raises an eyebrow at him, mouth twitching.

Something bubbles up inside Eyal. It feels strange. He doesn’t know this feeling.

Axel keeps a straight face for a moment, then cracks up, laughing like Eyal has never heard him laugh, full-throated and free. It’s. It’s a beautiful sound, and he can’t help joining him. Doesn’t even consider not joining him.  


Eventually they more or less compose themselves, which takes a long time, because one or the other of them keeps snorting and setting the other off again. After a while, Axel pulls Eyal so their foreheads are pressed together; somehow they’re holding hands and their legs are all intertwined. “I was so nervous,” Eyal confesses.

“You can be nervous any time if it makes you like that,” Axel says, in that register that’s low and sex-laden, and incredibly, Eyal feels himself stir just at the tone of his voice and what he’s saying.

“Mmmm,” Eyal says, then forces himself up, so he’s on one elbow over Axel. “I really was terrified, though, you see.”

“Me, too. Wait, I thought you were Israeli. Aren’t you talking about your feelings a lot for that? Maybe I need to trade you in for a new model.” Axel grins up at him and Eyal can’t help but smile back.

“We do have things to talk about of course,” Axel says, getting more serious.

“Of course. “ Eyal lets himself stroke Axel’s hair. “I still don’t believe you’re here. What were you thinking?”

Axel looks serious for a moment, pressing his lips together, but he shakes his head, then smiles archly. “Maybe if you’re very lucky, I’ll tell you later.”

This leads to some spirited tickling, and then some hugging, like they just can’t get enough of each other’s bodies. “We are disgusting, though, I think, yes?” Eyal says after a while. “Come on.”

They shower together in Eyal’s small bathroom, soaping each other and kissing. One minute it’s playful and fun, soap everywhere, sliding against each other wetly, and the next, heat flares between them and Axel’s tonguing Eyal’s ear, hands sliding to curve around Eyal’s ass.

They stumble down the hall, hands all over each other, no words now. They fall on the bed, desperate for any contact they can get. After a while, Eyal whispers into Axel’s ear, “Inside?”

Axel stills, then nods.

“What?” Eyal asks, propping himself up so he can see Axel’s face better.

“Nothing.” Axel shakes his head and reaches for the lube and condoms, starts to roll into position over Eyal.

Eyal stops him with a hand. “No, I thought. That is, if you want, I would like to do it to you.” He can barely get the words out, cheeks burning.

Axel’s gaze on him is sharp. “You didn’t want to before, in Germany.You do not have to, for me, if you prefer it always the other way.”

Eyal shrugs. “Why would I limit myself, right?” He leans in and murmurs into Axel’s ear, “And I believe it would be so hot to be inside of you. I want to. I want you, I want to--”

“Uhhh.” Axel shudders.

Eyal grins and grabs the stuff, but sets it down, spreads Axel out on his back on the bed. “There.”

“You look like you are arranging a plate of food.” Axel smiles at him from under his lashes.

“I am,” Eyal laughs, then leans down and proceeds to lick up the smooth insides of Axel’s thighs, the creases of his legs, the tender balls, then back to the smooth shower-clean skin behind that.

Axel writes and gasps. “You-I-I thought Israeli men were uptight, but you’re. Oh my god. Ha! This was going to be a future wish, to see if maybe you would like it but obviously you -- ohhh,” he moans, frantic hands in Eyal’s hair. “Ohh, come inside me, I don’t need all the prep, just.”

Eyal laughs, pulling up for a moment so he can look at Axel. “Maybe you don’t need it, but I am, how do you say it? On a mission.”

Axel rolls his eyes. “A, a mission,” he pants.

“It involves making you very crazy,” Eyal says calmly, fingers working between Axel’s legs.

Axel moans. “I have a feeling that is not--Not going to be a problem.”

Eyal grins and bends to flick his tongue where it will do the most good, then insinuate the tip every so slightly inside, just to try it. To not be afraid.

Axel moans and clutches at the sheets.

Eyal does it again, pushing in a bit more, in this most intimate of kisses. He does it again and again, and it’s heady, something so dirty that turns Axel on so much. Turns _him_ on so much.

Eventually, he licks his way back up to Axel’s cock. Axel’s pretty much an incoherent mess at this point, which is a good look on him. His hair is sticking up all over the place, his cheeks are flushed, and his eyes are dark.

“Inside, please, please, I need--” Axel eventually begs, after Eyal fingers him more with first one, then two fingers, watching Axel’s face, the way he bites his lip, the curve of his throat..

Axel moves to roll over on his stomach, but Eyal stops him with a hand on his hip.

“Can we--Like this? I think we can--” Eyal says, hoping Axel will get what he’s saying.

Axel’s eyes widen and then turn even warmer on Eyal; he sighs back into the bed, holding out his arms to pull Eyal to him.

Eyal’s shaking by the time he lines up and starts to push in, Axel’s long legs around his waist. It’s unbelievably tight and hot; holy shit, he is pushing _inside_ Axel’s body. There’s resistance, yet he can almost _feel_ Axel consciously relax, let him in.

Axel closes his eyes, focused as Eyal slides in, slow, slow, but when Eyal finally sinks home, they fly open; almost frantic. Eyal forces himself to stay put and breathe, to let Axel adjust. The heat of Axel’s body, the tightness clinging to his cock... He takes another deep breath and runs a soothing hand down Axel’s cheek. “Shhh.”

“Move,” Axel grits out after a few long moments. “Now.”

And Eyal does, first gently and slowly, then harder when Axel pulls him in with his legs and growls.

Eyal’s drenched in sweat, the sweet ache almost more than he can bear. He fucks Axel hard, then harder, just as Axel asks, barely holding himself back from coming, toes already curling.

Just when they’re both on the brink, he slows it down, forcing himself to push in slow, slower, wait for long moments between thrusts. “What are you-What are you doing?” Axel moans. “Please, fuck me. Harder.”

“I will, I will, I just.” Eyal leans down and kisses the parts of Axel he can reach; collarbones, shoulder, lips when Axel cranes up a little. Axel’s mouth opens sweetly under him and they kiss and kiss, every tiny movement sending shudders through both of them.

Finally Eyal slows it down so much he’s just poised over Axel, hand on the side of his face stroking, staring into his eyes. He can see the moment Axel understands; Axel raises his hand to Eyal’s cheek and strokes softly, stops his frantic attempts to get _more_. “Ah, you’re beautiful,” he whispers.

“No, you. Look at you,” Eyal says, running his thumb over Axel’s eyes, nose, mouth. His chest aches, hurting with love, for love it obviously is. “I have not done this with anyone,” he tells Axel -- one of the only things he can give him.

“I know. Or at least, I had guessed.” Axel strokes Eyal’s hair, smiling up at him.

Eyal bends down so he can whisper in Axel’s ear. The movement makes Axel shiver, so Eyal shifts ever so slightly again, then again, Axel’s body relaxing even more into the bed. “I was afraid to let you inside me,” he whispers.

Axel turns and noses along Eyal’s cheek. “Silly, you let me fuck you almost right away.”

“But, _inside_ ,” Eyal murmurs.

“Oh,” Axel says. “I think I understand now.”

Eyal rolls his hips a tiny fraction and Axel moans. “Fucking someone. Fucking someone, you have to take care, you can’t help but feel--”

“Yes.”

Axel huffs out a laugh. “Many people would see only the surface. They think being fucked is the thing that makes you the weaker one.” He shifts his hips up slightly and this time it’s Eyal’s turn to moan.

Eyal lays little kisses around the shell of Axel’s ear. “There is no weaker, but. For me, doing this; I couldn’t. I knew it would... I knew I couldn’t hide, doing this”

Axel grabs Eyal’s head and turns his face toward him, kisses him hard and deep. Almost until it hurts. ”And now?” he whispers, shifting so his legs are higher yet around Eyal.

Eyal groans, sinking even deeper into Axel. “I am all cracked open anyway. There is nothing that is not--” He stops himself, flushing.

Axel’s eyes are warm on him. “Nothing that is not....?” His hand gentles Eyal, petting his hair and Eyal turns into it, luxuriating in being touched.

“Yours,” Eyal says quickly, so he cannot keep it inside.

Axel gasps and his eyes fly open wide and he’s going to say something, but Eyal grits out: “No more talking, I think,” then moves inside Axel, first slowly, then faster, pushing one of Axel’s legs back even more to give him more leverage, fucking into him hard until Axel’s a moaning, whimpering, begging mess.

Axel reaches for his cock, but Eyal slaps his hand away. “Llke this, if you can. I think you can, yes?”

Axel groans and grabs Eyal’s free hand, squeezing hard. Eyal squeezes back and catches Axel’s gaze, holds it. “You can. You can come just from me, from my cock, I know it. You are so hot, so sexy, it’s amazing being inside you, deep and--”

“Ahhhhh.” Axel shudders and throws his head back, coming so hard Eyal has to work hard to ride it out, stay inside. Axel’s insides flutter and contract around Eyal and he just can’t wait any longer; he fucks into Axel hard, harder. “Yessss,” Axel says, shuddering again, pulling Eyal in tighter, tighter with his legs

When Eyal comes, it’s blinding, but Axel’s right there, hand on his face again. “ _Liebling_ , baby, yes, that’s right. You fucked me so good. I am inside you now and you are not getting rid of me. Yes, yeah, do it.”

Eyal’s kind of embarrassed after, but Axel has a satisfied grin and he’s glowing all over and he hauls Eyal up and covers his face with kisses. “Yeah?” Eyal manages.

“Yeah. So much yeah,” Axel laughs. “So now, what do you think? Do you have a preference?”

Eyal considers. He’s not surprised to find he doesn’t. He’s thought a lot about both ways and each makes him shiver and harden, just thinking. “No. Definitely, both ways. You?”

“No, I told you. Great things about both. And, oh my god, to find someone who wants both, I just. Wow.” He grins blindingly at Eyal. “However,” he adds after a moment, “Perhaps we need more tests, both ways, just to be sure the data is complete.” He raises an eyebrow archly.

“Excellent scientific point.” Eyal leers at Axel. “Also we need more research into everything else we can do; hands, mouths...”

“You are going to kill me in bed, I can see this,” Axel says seriously. “All the amazing sex, it is going to just reduce me to worthless for anything else.”

Eyal laughs. “I guess you don’t want any food now, then. I will have to eat it all myself.”

Axel smacks his arm. “Out of my way, monster!”

Eyal smiles at him, then smiles even bigger. Axel holds his gaze and smiles back. There’s a flicker of heat that sparks between them and Axel raises an eloquent eyebrow.

Eyal laughs and hauls Axel up to a stand, leads him by the hand into the kitchen. “We had better eat something now. I have a feeling we might need the nourishment.”

Axel’s laugh is bright and easy.

~~~  
~~~

 **Epilogue**

The Sea of Galilee is dark grey today, like the clouds overhead. There is no one else here.

They sit huddled together in blankets. Eyal builds a fire and they drink coffee, eat sandwiches they brought.

It’s been six months since Axel showed up on the corner across from Eyal’s work. Six months of learning about each other, finding their way through awkward moments like moving Axel’s stuff into Eyal’s apartment, figuring out what food to put where in the fridge, Axel adjusting to the views of most Israelis on things he only knew from afar, and Eyal adjusting to Axel’s outsider insights. Six months of incredible sex, growing familiarity making things even better, as hard as that is to imagine given how amazing it was from the beginning.

Six months also of Eyal working as a security specialist for the peace group, if only so the arguments about what to do can actually _begin_ , and six months of Axel learning enough of the language to begin working as a teacher of Israeli children, not just a language teacher.

Most of all, it’s been six months of intimacy. Both of them have reasons that has been terrifying.

This morning, Sunday, they had a fight about -- Eyal’s not exactly sure, actually. It had something to do with a throwaway comment Axel made about Eyal’s mood. Eyal had snapped back that not everyone had the luxury to be so carefree all the time. Axel had turned icy. “You’re not dragging my family background into this. Oh wait, you are.”

It had deteriorated from there, words flying. Eyal: cold and bitter and incapable of loving someone without hurting them. Axel spoiled and shallow and unable to commit to anything.

It was their first real fight, and Eyal still hurts from the way Axel’s words went straight to his heart, turned it tight and aching in one second. He imagines Axel probably feels the same way.

It had actually been Eyal’s idea to come here. He’d been walking out the door when he spotted it; the wilted stem of the flower Axel had offered him all those months ago on the street in Berlin. He keeps it in his favorite book, on the table by the front door. It made him stop, hand on the door knob, and remember: how Axel had brought Eyal from being locked inside himself, frozen, to a person who lived, and loved. It reminded him, too, of his mother: in a flash he saw her, filling the kitchen vase with new blooms picked from a nearby field, saying, “Eyal, Eyal, live a little, baby,” with a smile that lit up her eyes.

In that moment, almost out the door, he made a decision, and did something he’d never done before; opened himself to more hurt. “Can we--Why don’t we go for a drive.” He’s still furious and Axel looks at him like he’s crazy. The silence stretches and Eyal’s stomach drops, but after an interminable moment of Axel examining Eyal’s face, Axel nods, short and sharp.

They’re here now, and Eyal supposes since he made them come he needs to go first. “I--”

“Can we skip that part?” Axel breaks in, looking down at his coffee. “Can we get to the part where we decide if we’re doing this, because I--” his voice breaks.

Eyal has him in his arms before he even thinks, before he even lets himself think. Thinking is overrated. The best decisions he’s made in his life, he’s gone based off his gut. His heart. “I’m sorry,” he says, and finds that he means it, that he would rather he’d stayed silent and never said those hurtful things. He’d rather hurt alone than have Axel hurting too. “I don’t want to hurt you. I know I only ever hurt the people--”

“Shhh, no. You loved her and she loved you.” And it’s still new, how Axel understands him, _knows_ him. Still shocking and frightening and amazing. “You just, you lost your way, with each other, but also, Eyal, she was sick. It was her brain that put her where she was, not you. You must believe it. You’re not responsible for me, I am.” He laughs shakily. “And I’m fine. I mean, not fine, but... fine. We had a fight like normal people do, and it fucking hurts because no one else can get to me like you. But I trust you with that. You hear me?” He pushes away from Eyal to look in his eyes. “ I trust you with that.”

Eyal’s eyes sting, and then more than sting, and he’s the one being comforted now, Axel’s strong arms around him, rocking him, like he did back in Berlin all that time ago. “Like I trust you,” he says, muffled into Axel’s shirt.

Axel nods. “Yes. Like that.”

It takes a while, but eventually they get up and go down to the water’s edge. The clouds have shifted and the sun pokes through, turning the water silver-gold. Axel of course wades in, then turns to smile at Eyal. “Remember?”

“Of course.” Eyal watches him wade deeper and decides, what the hell. He bends to roll up his pants legs.

“Join me?” Axel asks, tentative. His smile is still shaky around the edges.

Eyal smiles back at him and stands up, motioning to where his pants are rolled up. “I think I already have.”

Axel’s smile grows bigger and reaches his eyes. He holds out a hand toward Eyal, just like in Eyal’s dream. And just like in his dream, Eyal walks into the water, never taking his eyes off Axel. “I still can’t walk on the water, though,” he says, once he gets to where Axel is.

“Me, neither.” Axel takes his hand and kisses his palm. His eyes sparkle and Eyal’s heart soars. “Perhaps we will simply have to keep trying to purify our souls.”

“Is that what we’ve been doing,” Eyal asks, throaty.

“Mmm,” Axel says, pulling him in for a kiss. “That’s one way of putting it. Oh, by the way,” he adds, “I had news. We’re going to be uncles.” He laughs at Eyal’s expression.

It takes Eyal a long time to form words, longer still for their clothes to dry after the water battle that ensues. That’s okay, though, because they sit by the fire drying their things and warming up, so there’s time to talk about the little niece that’s going to come along in about six months, maybe getting a bigger place so when she’s older she can stay with them sometimes, plans for the future beyond that, even.

Very late, when the fire’s only coals, Eyal takes a deep breath and says into the silence, “I want--I would like to tell you about my mother. If you--”

“I do,” Axel says quietly, saying Eyal’s hand. “Whatever you’re ready to tell.”

“There is not much,” Eyal says quietly. “But what there is, I would like to share.”

And he does.

~ ~ ~

Later, driving home late that night, _Kiss Me_ comes on the radio. They turn and look at each other. Axel smiles. “I wanted you even then, you know. A man who translated those words so beautifully, so wistfully. Later, I imagined you saying them to me. Embarrassing, I know.”

Eyal feels his face heat. “Not embarrassing. I think we, together, and today, this fighting, we--It’s kissing until it hurts, yes?”

“Yes.” Axel reaches over and takes Eyal’s free hand in his, squeezes. “And like the song, I never want the drive to end.”

“Then it won’t,” Eyal says, and means it with every part of his soul.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Many people helped in the creation of this fic. I will add thanks to all of them after the reveal. I couldn't have done it without the awesome people who did incredible beta work, provided information about Israel and Germany, cheered me on, and provided intelligence about the person whose request this was (hehe).  
> For people wishing to get a flavor for the gorgeous main characters featured in this fic, here are links to the few Youtube clips there are (Warning: Contain Spoilers):  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ftZhiogzTY&feature=related (Sea of Galilee key scene)  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V_bJIZa4UQ4&feature=related (Is it true Israeli men really don't like to talk about their feelings?)  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yvgzq9L4hYk&feature=related  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2LbOEW-7H1c&feature=related  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8hrI7brn5OM
> 
>  


End file.
